


Be The King (but watch the queen conquer)

by SophieRosina



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Badass Women, Eventual Smut, F/M, Female Leader, Gen, Mentions of Past Sexual Coercion, Multi, Negan Being Negan (Walking Dead), Other, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, mentions of past rape/non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2018-10-12 17:59:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 54,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10496481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophieRosina/pseuds/SophieRosina
Summary: Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. That's what your father had always told you. You never understood it until that crown was suddenly on your head.When one of your men picks a fight with the wrong people, you have a choice to make. Wait for The Saviors to slaughter the community you've fought so hard to build, or take the problem to their front door and make a deal with the Devil himself.What you find when he opens that door, however, is something you could have never expected.





	1. Slippin Into Darkness (they took my friend away)

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure what corner of my brain this thing crawled out of, but I'm ridiculously excited and really hope you like it!
> 
> It's my first fic I've ever written in second person, and I welcome any comments you have - they really are the best motivation in the world.

_Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown._

Your father used to say that a lot, usually when neck deep in the tougher aspects of running your family farm. Which crops to sell, which ones to keep. Which animals to slaughter to put food on the table. How many lambs needed to be sacrificed to keep the rest of the cattle from succumbing to disease, even though they didn’t appear sick. It used to keep him up at night.

_So keep it on a swivel_ , he’d later added, in those first crazy few months After. _Keep it on a swivel, and watch your own six._

You hadn’t truly understood what he meant until the already fucked world turned even shitter and that crown was suddenly worn by you.

It had started off quietly. Rumours… whispers… horror stories of crazy shit that just couldn’t be true...  but then your father had come rushing home after the farmer’s market one morning, three hours too early and covered in blood, and you’d realized it was.

The sickness. The dead suddenly walking. The cannibalism. All of it.

The world had become a living nightmare, a ruthless and savage place where even the fittest couldn’t survive.

So, you’d created a new one. You and your father, the strays you picked up on the way… You’d fortified your farmhouse, put up fences, dug trenches, turned the barn into a safe zone for your cattle, and it had _worked_. Your community – your _family –_ grew thirty strong in a matter of months, and that number had kept on climbing by the week.

Everyone had pulled their weight. Raising the cattle, tending to the crops, cooking, cleaning… For almost a year, you’d thrived. _Lived._

And then They had arrived.

You’d awoken to the sound of screams echoing through the farmhouse in which you all slept. Shouts, wails, gunfire… They’d lined you up and slaughtered your men one by one. Saved your father for last.

_Keep it on a swivel, and watch your own six._

You’d failed in that. It had been one of the men you’d exiled for trying to force himself on one of your girls that had brought Them to your front door, in exchange for a position of power. You should’ve seen it coming.

They were brutal. They were monsters. But they’d also underestimated you, and that had been their first and last mistake.

You’d bided your time. Pushed through countless beatings and abuse and being dragged by your hair into the leader’s room every night so He could take and take and _take_. The first few times, His men had grabbed one of the women at random, and you’d had no idea it was happening until Lila had brought one of the girls to you straight after, weeping and bleeding. The next night when His men came, you’d volunteered to go, giving yourself to Him instead of letting Him force the others. His men weren’t allowed to touch any of the girls after that either, as long as you were willing.

So you’d played along, let Him do whatever He wanted whenever He wanted to do it, and never complained. After months had passed without a word of protest, your compliance made Him sloppy, lazy… He’d started making you sleep in his bed with him at night instead of throwing you out, stopped keeping such a close eye on you when you spoke to your people. He’d honestly believed you’d given up, that you’d rolled over and stopped fighting.

He was wrong.

You and your women had shown them no mercy, granted them no reprieve or peace. Every single one of them had died that night. Twenty-five brutes, slaughtered in their sleep like the animals they were… except for one. You’d saved Him for last, just like He had your father. He’d been wide awake when He’d finally died. You’d made sure of that.

Recovering hadn’t been easy. Your people were tired, and they were broken, and every single one of them had looked to you for the strength you hadn’t thought yourself capable of anymore. Every morning was a struggle, yet you got out of bed anyway. You planned and you grafted and you reminded your battered group what it was like Before. You took back the pieces that had been stolen from you all and used them to build something _better_.

It took months to succeed, but you did it. The children laughed again, the women stopped screaming in their sleep… and new people started to arrive. Just small clusters of survivors that were few and far between, but every single one of them were desperate for something _more_ than what awaited them on the outside _._ You didn’t turn any of them away, but they had to contribute and prove their worthiness before being allowed into the secured farmhouse with the others at night. Until then, they slept outside in the log hut you’d previously used to store supplies, and if they didn’t like that, they were out.

Nobody ever chose option two.

And so your community continued to grow again, bringing with it the strength that could only be granted by numbers. With the help of the few men you’d allowed in, the exterior perimeter fence your father had wanted to be put up was finished, and so were the treehouses he’d designed as outposts. Nobody would ever get to sneak up on you again.

You continued to watch your own back and everyone else’s, and in turn, they watched each other’s. It was mutual respect that kept everyone together – nobody was above anyone else, including you. You shared the same rooms, ate the same portions, did the same tasks. But when it came to the hard calls, the life or death, the real tough shit… who to let in, where to scavenge, how to survive… That fell on your shoulders.

_Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown._

Your father had been right all along.


	2. Make Up Your Mind, Baby (the time is here)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like this introduction to your new world... Things are about to kick off ;-)
> 
> Let me know your thoughts in the comments - I'm always grateful for feedback, good and bad! xx

“I was thinking maybe we use the hayloft as an access route – the ladder’s long enough to reach from there and we could set an anchorage point along the heavier branches so it wouldn’t slip once deployed?”

It was late. Too late to be planning anything at all let alone emergency escape routes, if you were honest with yourself, but Dylan had been working hard on the project for over a week and it needed to be finalized before the men could start work the next morning. And since nothing was finalized unless you deemed it so, sleep would just have to wait, as always.

You examined the plans he had laid out in front of you carefully, the flickering of the candle at the top of your desk casting shadows across the pages. He’d put a lot of thought into it and the plan was a solid one in theory, but reality usually found a way to bite you in the ass so you had to be thorough.

“How many people do you think it could take without cracking under the weight?” you asked, tapping over the green blob that represented the large, thick-trunked tree that sat between the inner walls and outer fence, close to the barn.

“At one time? Ten, maybe more if they scattered well enough?” he guessed. “Should buy us enough time to get the first group away and prepare the rest without being detected?”

“With the ladder that high, it could work.” You tilted your head, thinking it through. “You think you can build a connection between that tree and these two here?”

Dylan nodded. “They’re close enough together… We’d need to test it first, but I think we’ve got enough wood to form a bridge of some kind.”

“See what you can do,” you requested. You didn’t like giving orders, but your people respected you enough to do whatever you asked of them anyway. “If there’s a way to get far enough for the exit point to be on the other side of that perimeter fence, make it happen. If you need more resources, more tools, more hands? You let me know and it’s yours, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dylan agreed gratefully. “Of course.”

“Dylan,” you sighed. “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me ma’am? Blue’s fine.”

“Sorry ma’a-… _Blue._ ” He grimaced, like calling you by your nickname was unnatural and wrong. Nobody ever called you by your real name anymore – very few people actually knew it.

You laughed softly and placed a hand on his forearm. “Get some sleep. You’ve earned it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You shook your head as you watched him leave, then heaved a weary sigh and flopped into the worn leather chair your father had once called his throne. After your mother had died when you were young, you used to find him sitting in it late at night, nursing a glass of scotch as he poured over inventories and order sheets… Now it was the thing you’d seek solace in after a long day of tough work and little rest, which often meant it was also where you made your hardest decisions. Despite the echoes of your father that permeated every corner of the office, it was the only place you ever felt truly at peace.

It was the one room He hadn’t been able to touch.

You ran your fingers through your hair then braced your elbows on the desk with your face in your hands. Your eyes burned and your body ached with the need for sleep, but a glance at the old clock on the wall told you the scavenging group you’d sent out earlier that day would be back soon so you forced yourself to hold off just a little longer.

To pass the time, you stacked up Dylan’s plans into a neat pile on the corner of your desk and started to jot down a lesson plan for the class you were due to teach the community’s children the next afternoon. In this new world, Algebra was replaced by survival skills, gym class morphed into stamina-building cardiovascular training, and tomorrow biology would become a lesson on how to skin rabbits and milk cows.

Practical, useful knowledge was the only thing that truly mattered anymore, but you always liked to include elements of the old world anyway. A little art here, some reading there… the children still deserved to be treated like kids, even if only for a short while.

You were almost done when a loud knock rattled the office door, and you cursed under your breath before calling, “Come in.”

The door immediately opened and a familiar figure stepped inside, making you sigh with relief. You could let your guard down with Lila. She was your second in command for a reason.

“Good. You’re back,” you greeted quietly, eyes fixed on the pages before you again now that you knew who it was. “How did it go? You find anything useful out there?”

“Blue.”

You glanced up, then did a double take, your head snapping up in shock at the sight of Lila’s bloodied clothes and anxious expression.

“What happened?”

“It’s Andrew,” she quickly explained. “He’s been shot.”

You immediately sprung up from your chair and crossed the room towards her. “How bad?”

“ _Bad_ bad.” Lila fell into step beside you as the office door slammed shut on your way out, the explanation coming out of her fast but concise. “He’s lost a lot of blood. The bullet went straight through so there was nothing to plug the hole, but Marie’s trying to stop it.”

“Where’d it hit?” You all but ran down the steps leading to the lower floor of the farmhouse, then rounded the corner that led to the med-bay. “We talking body or limb?”

“Left thigh,” Lila replied as you rolled up your sleeves, ready to help. “Went deep, too.”

You groaned out a curse, quickening your pace at the sight of the blood trail on the floor.

“It’s a miracle we got him out alive.” Lila moved past you to push open the doors, expression grim and dark hair tumbling from its bun. “They fired from everywhere at once.”

That made you falter slightly. “ _They?_ ”

You burst through into the large room that acted as your infirmary and stumbled to a stop as a flurry of movement surrounded you, centred around the middle bed. Andrew was writhing against the plastic sheeting while Marie tried to stem the heavy bleeding from his thigh with Jacob and Stephanie – two of your best scouters – helping her hold him down.

Red streams dripped steadily to the floor as Marie barked orders at the two women that acted as your community's nurses, who were desperately trying to tend to Andrew and someone else you couldn’t see at the same time. You stood there frozen, mind working overtime to process it all, but then Andrew’s agonized gaze met yours and you found yourself rushing forward to seize his hand.

“It's okay, Andrew,” you soothed, glancing down at the urgent fingers that were working on his thigh. “We've got you, it’s gonna be alright.”

“Fr-F-Fra-” he tried to tell you, but the words died as his back arched violently, turning them into a scream.

“I know! _I know!”_ Marie lamented. She tightened the tourniquet around his thigh even further, and you felt the bones in your fingers crunch together from the force with which Andrew squeezed them.

“I’m here, I got you, Andrew,” you promised, throat tight. “You’re gonna be fine, just hold on, okay?”

He whimpered loudly, unable to make his mouth form words, and you looked to Marie, desperately hoping she had a plan. The last of your anaesthetic and major pain killers had been used up the week before after one of your laborers had fallen from an outer treehouse, but you prayed the supply run hadn’t been a total write-off.

She caught your gaze and shook her head slightly. “We’re out.”

“Fuck.” You turned your attention back to Andrew and lifted a hand to cup his cheek, doing your best to keep him calm. He was barely even twenty, yet did more for the community than most people twice his age and you hated that he was the one who was suffering. You shouldn’t have let him go on that run in the first place – you knew it, you should’ve stopped him – and now he was the one paying the price.

“Blue,” he whined.

“I’m here,” you swore, stroking your thumb over his clammy skin. “I’m right here.”

“Fr-Francis,” he groaned, glancing to his left at the other bed the nurses were also attending to. “He… The Saviors.”

Your stomach dropped. “What?”

Without warning, Andrew’s eyes rolled up and he fell limp against the bed, head lolling against your hand.

“ _Shit!_ ” You pressed your fingers against his neck, but they were shaking too much to be of any use. “Marie!”

“It’s alright, it’s just the pain,” she assured you, unconcerned. “That’ll make things easier. Hold this.”

You grabbed Andrew’s thigh to keep it at the right angle for her to work and cringed at the blood that continued to pulse from the wound, seeping thickly over your hands. “He’s losing too much blood.”

“I know.” Marie shook her head, refusing to panic. She always kept a level head, and it had saved more than just your life many a time. “I can only do so much without replacing the volume he’s already lost, and there’s only one person I know for sure will match.”

You cursed under your breath.

“Stephanie, go wake up Michael.”

“What?” Stephanie’s eyed widened. “He’s _fourteen_. I can’t-”

“You can and you will!” Marie snapped. “We haven’t got a choice!”

“Blue…” she appealed.

“Do you want to be the one to tell him his brother died?” you challenged, frustration at the situation tainting every word. You never handled potentially losing anybody particularly well. “Or do you want to help us save his life?”

The panicked patter of Stephanie’s footsteps fleeing the infirmary answered for her.

With Marie now working to suture Andrew’s wound closed, you looked over to the other bed and realized that Emily, her second, was tending to a nasty wound on Francis’ forehead. The man was refusing to look anyone in the eye, even when Emily tipped his head back to finish bandaging it up, and seemed remarkably quiet considering how much of a loud and boisterous pain in the ass he usually was. It wasn’t often that he could be in a room without you noticing.

The expression on Lila’s face when you glanced back at her told you all you needed to know.

“Marie, you good until Michael gets here for the transfusion?” you asked quietly. She nodded, not once losing focus on her task, and you gestured for Jacob to take your place before carefully moving your hands away.

“Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is,” you murmured to Lila as you walked over to her, turning your back to Francis.

“It’s exactly what you think it is,” Lila sighed.

_Fuck._

You gratefully accepted the towel she offered for your hands and swallowed thickly. “Who made the first move?”

“Francis. The Saviors didn’t even know we were there until he gunned one of them down.”

“Okay.” You took a deep breath and tried to quell the panic rising inside you. “Okay. Did anybody else fire?”

“No,” Lila swore. “No, it was just him.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you mumbled. “What was he _thinking?_ ”

Everybody knew about The Saviors. They’d earned themselves quite the reputation in the past few months, and the few members of your community that had come face to face with them and survived proved that infamy was well-founded. Francis was one of them – his previous camp had been wiped out after they refused to surrender their supplies to the group and tried to kill the leader instead.

He, better than anyone, should have understood why you’d placed your scouters under strict rules to never engage The Saviors, no matter what the circumstance.

“He said he wanted to send Negan a message,” Lila muttered. “Something about justice for his family.”

Grief could do crazy things to a person. Francis’ wife had succumbed to her injuries the day after you’d granted them refuge three weeks ago.

Tonight was supposed to have been his chance at earning his spot in the farmhouse. Instead, he’d put your entire community in danger.

“I knew I shouldn’t’ve let him stay,” you regretted. “Now we’re all a fucking target.”

This was bad.

This was catastrophically, undeniably, completely fucking bad.

You’d been so _careful._ Your people avoided known Savior territory, took precautions not to get caught… You hadn’t escaped one tyrant’s rule only to get shoved under another’s thumb just months after.

Lila placed her hand on your arm and squeezed – she was one of a select few whose touch didn’t make you recoil. “What do you need me to do?”

“I…” You scrambled for a plan, for _anything_ to get you out of the situation Francis had just forced you into. You couldn’t just sit here and wait for The Saviors to decimate everything you’d worked so hard to build. There were children here, people who deserved something stable… you’d all been through too much already.

You knew the offer the other communities had been given. _Give us your shit, or you die._ You were barely able to comfortably sustain the people you already had, let alone provide enough to make up for giving half over to The Saviors every week on top of that.

“What’re we gonna do?” Lila’s wide, brown eyes met yours and you could see the worry within them. “If they come here… We both know what Negan does to people who fight back.”

She was right. It was why you’d spent so much time trying to stay under the radar.

“We can’t fight them,” you sighed. “We don’t have the means.”

You glanced over your shoulder at Francis, who was eyeing you warily.

_What would Dad do? What would Dad do?_

“We’re gonna have to turn him over.” The realization weighed like lead on your shoulders, but the more you thought about it, the clearer it became that that was the only option you truly had. “Take the problem to their front door instead of letting them bring it to ours.”

“You think letting this Negan guy smash the shit outta that fucknut’s skull with a baseball bat’s gonna make him turn the other cheek?” Lila hissed incredulously. “Are you crazy?”

You scrubbed a hand over your face and tried to hold it together. “No, that wouldn’t be enough.”

“Then what else are you gonna...” she trailed off and you could tell she was searching your face for something so you had to look away. “Blue?”

You’d been here before.

You knew this game. King versus Queen.

You understood its rules, how to play… and you could start a new match, if it kept your people safe.

“I’m gonna need you to hold down the fort for me for a while,” you told her quietly. “Keep everybody calm, don’t let them panic, okay?”

“I’m coming with you,” Lila began, but you shook your head and squeezed her hand in yours.

“I can’t risk anybody else,” you murmured. “If I go alone, just me and Francis? Unarmed? It might be the white flag that buys me enough leeway to negotiate some kind of deal.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Lila countered. “Then what?”

“Then I don’t come back…” You shrugged, not even wanting to think about it. “Dylan’s putting an escape route in place tomorrow – a way out through the trees that nobody will see coming. Use it if you have to, but give me a few days, okay? I gotta at least try.”

“You…” Lila clenched her jaw, then huffed out a frustrated breath. “… are the biggest pain in my ass, you know that?”

You smiled softly at her. “Yeah, I know. But you’re going to cover for me while I get Francis in the car anyway.”

You withdrew your pistol from the rear of your waistband and crossed the room in a matter of seconds, cracking Francis over the head with the butt of the gun before he even had a chance to open his mouth. Emily gasped in shock, but didn’t try to stop you when you not-so-gently pushed Francis’ unconscious body flat on the gurney he’d been sitting on and started wheeling him towards the doors, where Lila was staring at you in disbelief.

“Remind me never to piss you off,” she muttered once you were in earshot.

“Never piss me off,” you joked, then handed her your gun. One less weapon for The Saviors to take. “Three days. That’s all I’m asking. And if anyone asks… Francis left of his own accord after failing induction.”

Lila shook her head, but you knew she wasn't really saying no. She’d been one of the first strays you and your father had taken in and was easily your closest friend. The two of you saw eye to eye on almost everything even when you didn’t – this would be no exception.

“Three days,” she eventually agreed, taking the set of keys for one of your vehicles out her pocket and offering them to you. “Then I'm coming to kick your ass.”

You took the keys from her hand and nodded.

Neither one of you voiced your fears that, if you didn't make it back on time, there wouldn't be anything left of you for her to kick.


	3. Shoulda Left You Right There (where i met you)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The most difficult thing about writing multiple fics for the same fandom at the same time? Typing in the correct open document!
> 
> Hope you like this one - I sure as fuck loved writing it!
> 
> Let me know in the comments xx

_We have to distrust each other._

_It is our only defence against betrayal._

The Sanctuary wasn’t far, in the grand scheme of things, but it still took you several hours to make the journey in the dark. You were beyond tired – growing more so with every second – but with each minute that passed, the lower your chances of making it out alive became.

You forced your sleepy eyes to stay open and pushed through it.

The only way your plan would work was if Negan and The Saviors saw how genuine you were when you turned Francis over to them, and didn’t doubt you when you offered a truce. Any delays in waving that white flag could cost you dearly, make them question your motives, when the truth was you had no agenda.

There was no ace up your sleeve, no hidden surprises in store – you just wanted to put an end to an inevitable war before the first battle even took place.

Doing that would require you to lay your cards on the table, be upfront and truthful without appearing weak. Men like Negan didn’t respond to that. They just took advantage.

Handing over Francis was the first step. The olive branch you desperately needed to even get in the door. Once inside, you’d need to offer them a deal. Something worthwhile not just in Negan’s eyes but his people’s as well, or they’d steamroll their way right into your community and take everything you had by force regardless. Just like Them.

Because they _would_ find you, eventually. The Saviors didn’t let things go. Everybody knew that.

Why the Hell would they?

Your man fired first.

It wouldn’t matter to The Saviors that Francis was the only one who attacked. He’d killed one of their men and you’d all be held accountable for it, once they found you. Your group was in the wrong, as far as The Saviors were concerned, so facing the consequence head-on to offer a solution instead of making them seek you out to deliver their own one was the only bargaining chip you really had.

Negan wouldn’t exactly be in the wrong if he refused to accept. That was why your offer had to be a great one – not just for him, but you as well. A mutually beneficial arrangement, instead of mutually assured destruction.

You hated to admit it, and God forbid anyone found out, but if the roles were reversed and another, _weaker_ group had attacked yours… You’d probably storm in and take advantage, too. Two of their eyes for one of yours would leave only your enemy blind, after all.

You weren’t a saint. That got stomped out of you a long time ago, somewhere between the world going to shit and slaughtering _Him_. Sometimes, the only way to survive this ruthless world was by _being_ ruthless, by turning into someone’s Big Bad Wolf instead of letting somebody else be yours. Being nice only left you vulnerable.

It made you let the wrong people in. Made you see through rose-tinted glasses. Trust too much. _Hurt_ too much.

Never again.

Francis had signed his own death warrant the moment he put his ridiculous revenge plot before the lives of over fifty other people. People who had worked their asses off to make their new world work and _bled_ to ensure it stayed that way. He deserved no more kindness from you. You owed him nothing.

Lila often joked you were _‘kind of a bitch’_ when it came to things like this. But that was why you were the one who always made these hard choices and nobody else. None of them _could_.

No-one ever truly wanted to choose who died so others lived. Not even you.

_Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown._

By the time you reached the outskirts of The Sanctuary, you could barely keep your eyes open. You knew where you’d be sleeping for the night, if they let you in the door. That would almost have been enough to stave off the exhaustion indefinitely, had you not already accepted and braced yourself for what was to come.

You’d faced it before. Spent months doing the same thing you’d end up having to do tonight.

You could do it again.

Your people’s lives depended on it, and they didn’t even know it.

Your vehicle rumbled along the road, almost soothing in its rhythm, but the closer you got, the higher you felt your adrenaline level rising. It was while you were in that crazy headspace, somewhere between exhaustion and anxious energy, that it started.

Whistling.

The same two notes, over and over again.

You’d expected as much, had heard the stories and knew the script, so it didn’t faze you like they’d planned. Instead you kept going, past the wall of the dead that assured you you were close. Few people knew where The Sanctuary was who weren’t already inside it, but you’d long since memorized the limited route people had described when they’d joined your community.

You weren’t stupid. This was an inevitable event. An abomination of Fate.

No matter which road you took, which decisions you made… you’d always have ended up here.

So you’d prepared for it. And now, months later, it was finally paying off.

As soon as you saw the gap in the line of reanimated corpses, you slowed to a stop and cut the engine. There was no doubt in your mind that they’d been alerted to your presence a few miles back and were already expecting you. You’d driven past one of their suspected outposts on purpose.

_Here goes nothing._

The whistling got louder, agitating the dead along the wall, but you kept your head high and waited until the shadows of people started to emerge before getting out of the vehicle.

You raised your hands in the air without being told and bumped the door shut with your hip before stepping to the side. You slowly turned, letting them see you were unarmed, then knelt on the ground with your chin raised and your arms up. It was a sign of respect, not fear.

“I’m here to see Negan,” you announced. Your voice was strong and clear, carrying across the space like an echo. Courteous instead of demanding. “If someone would please inform him of my arrival, I’d very much appreciate it.”

Laughter rang out. You didn’t let it bother you.

Instead, you jerked your head in the direction of your vehicle.

“In the trunk, you’ll find the man who attacked your people a few hours ago.”

The silence that followed your words was enough to make you want to smirk. You had their attention, now.

Two of the men slowly approached from behind but you didn’t bother turning around. No weakness. No fear.

The trunk popped open and hushed murmurs whispered around you like crickets humming.

“He’s yours regardless,” you called out. “But I think your leader may want to listen to what I have to say.”

The silence that fell after that was different. Tense. Filled with an unspoken apprehension.

The soft thud of approaching footfalls made your ears prick up.

_Negan._

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” He was behind you, but like before, you didn’t turn to look. “Christmas has come fucking early!”

Your breathing was even despite the adrenaline coursing through you, forged out of necessity and deployed like a shield whenever the occasion called for it. This was all part of the game. Opening moves, both yours and his.

“ _Ho-ly shit,_ just take a fucking look at this…. She fucking brought me a goddamn present.” The footsteps paused. “Now _that’s_ hospitality.”

You didn’t speak. That would be rude. He clearly wasn’t finished yet.

“Hot diggity dog! _This_ is the asshole who killed one of my fucking men? This prick?” He sounded disgusted. “Je-sus. He looks fucking shitty, all strung up like a fucking turkey, passed half-the-fuck out with a mashed-up face... You tie these knots, Doll?”

“Yes,” you replied clearly, now he’d addressed you directly. “Every single one.”

“Ooh, I love a lady who ain’t fucking afraid to experiment.” He was approaching you, now. “Keeps things fucking interesting, that’s for fucking sure.”

When he finally appeared by your side, your eyes sought him out immediately, and the sight of him with his infamous baseball bat swung over his left shoulder made it hard not to think about all the ways this could go wrong for you. You’d seen the damage that thing could do.

“I’m Negan,” he introduced, as if you hadn’t worked that out already. “And you are…”

“Blue’s fine,” you replied politely. Calm and simple.

“Blue, huh?” He let his tongue slide across his bottom lip, leaning back slightly as he looked you up and down. “Interesting choice of name.”

You shrugged in a way that was accepting without being dismissive. His eyes seemed to light up at the gesture, like he was entertained by your lack of fear. He probably was – you doubted many others had been able to look him in the eye this long while he performed his piece with dramatic flair.

But that’s all it was. Theatrics, designed to disarm and throw you off kilter.

“Well, stand the fuck up then, _Blue_ ,” he half-ordered, half-requested. “I am a fucking gentleman, after all. I don’t put women on their knees the first fuckin’ date… Unless they ask me for that shit _very_ fucking nicely.”

He winked at you, then reached out a gloved hand for you to take. You accepted without hesitation, letting him pull you back up to your feet.

“Thank you.” You tilted your head up slightly to maintain eye contact since he was taller than you, but didn’t flinch when you realized his fingers were still wrapped around yours. His touch wasn’t harsh or coercive. Its intent was to test, not hurt.

After several moments, he slowly grinned, then let his hand drop to his side. “You are most _certainly_ motherfucking welcome, Blue.”

As you waited for Negan to make his next move, his eyes tightened, looking you over a little closer. You knew he was searching for something in your posture, some kind of tension or uneasiness. He wouldn’t find any. He didn’t scare you.

Not yet.

“Tell me something, _Blue,_ how the fuck is it you had no fucking trouble what-so-fucking-ever getting here, but I don’t remember ever seeing you before.” He leaned in closer, almost conspiringly. “Trust me – I’d remember if I had.”

You struggled not to roll your eyes.

“People talk. I listen,” you explained instead. Vague, but not avoiding. “My community’s a couple hours’ drive from here, if the dead don’t get in the way. I just followed the route they’d described.”

“And now here you are, all the fucking way out to my place in the goddamn dark, just to come and see _me?”_ Negan chuckled. “I’m flattered.”

“I thought you might want to talk.” You had to be careful, here. Making the first move may have been important, but your response to his one was critical. It was where things could go sour, where he could start to twist things around and back you into a corner. “Our communities might have something to offer each other, if you’re interested?”

“Oh, I’m definitely interested in _you_ , Blue. You got some motherfucking beach ball sized lady-nuts on you, bringing this -” He lifted the baseball bat from his shoulder to gesture to the opened trunk. “- asshole here all by yourself. This _community_ of yours got a fuckin’ name?”

“The Thicket.” You straightened up slightly as Negan leaned back again, eyebrows raised. “That _asshole_ in the trunk? He was a candidate for a place there. After tonight, he’s no longer welcome in my home, so I figured, while I was here, you might want the opportunity to handle him how you see fit instead of me simply killing him… given what he did.”

Negan’s men had fallen quiet as soon as he started speaking, and the lull in noise that followed your words let Francis’ panicked sounds rise up to mingle with the ones from the dead. He was awake.

And he’d heard every word you’d just said.

“ _Your_ home, huh?” Negan seemed almost impressed by that. “That sounds kinda cosy. _Familial._ And yet… you were going to kill one of your own men, just like that?” He swung the baseball bat as if cracking it against someone’s head. “ _Bam!_ You’re just fucking full of surprises, ain’t ya, Blue?”

The word rolled off his tongue fluidly, not tainted with venom or malice the way _He_ had once spat out your real name like a curse. It was almost as if Negan was determined to say it as much as he could, just to feel the letters in his mouth.

“That piece of shit isn’t one of my men,” you corrected. “ _Mine_ know better than to step out of line like that. But if you don’t want to… _Bam._ ” You copied his previous gesture as if you also had a bat. “I’m more than happy to do it myself, _then_ talk with you.”

He stared at you. Actually s _tared._

And then he started to laugh, a genuine thing that made the corner of his eyes crinkle as he shook his head in wonder. It was almost impossible not to soften towards him a little, to stop yourself relaxing just a tiny bit.

You may have surprised him, but he sure as fuck had just stunned you right back.

You were wrong, earlier. Calling him disarming was an understatement.

“Holy shit, I like _you_ , Blue! Coming in here, speakin’ my fucking language, not giving a shit about the poor fuck in your trunk… Darlin’, I think you’re goddamn right. We _should_ talk.” He looked to his left. “Simon!"

You almost tensed at the sudden loudness of his voice. _Almost._

A man stepped out the shadows, but kept a respectful distance.

"Take that sorry shit inside - throw him in D's old cell."

Negan offered you his arm and covered your hand with his when you tucked it around his elbow in response.

“ _Blue_ and I are gonna have a little chat.”


	4. A Time For Games (a time to kill)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't had this much fun writing a scene in a long time!
> 
> Thanks for all your comments - I hope you like this one! xx

_I am a member of a team, and I rely on the team._

_I defer to it and sacrifice for it,_

_because the team, not the individual, is the ultimate champion._

You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, when Negan said you were going to have a _little chat_ , but it sure as Hell didn’t involve him bringing you _here_. To his bedroom? Yes. A cell? Possibly. To some public arena? Maybe, if he doubted you enough. But leading you up through The Sanctuary and into his office so he could actually _talk_ to you? Out of the question.

And yet, that’s exactly what he did.

“Y… -nk?”

You blinked, looking up at him questioningly. You’d been so wrapped up in your own thoughts that you’d missed what he’d said entirely. “Sorry?”

“Do you want a drink?” he repeated slowly, holding up a pair of crystal glasses.

“Oh!” You shook your head to clear the fucking cobwebs out. You seriously needed some sleep. “Shit, um… sure.”

As Negan poured you both out something from a crystal decanter behind him, you found yourself looking around the room. Luxuriously incongruous. That was the only way to describe it. An office like his had no right to exist in this world, but you were standing in it anyway, surrounded by items that didn’t match yet somehow managed to work to create something that fit perfectly.

Two loveseats to your right, facing each other and separated by a table. A gorgeous desk with a high-backed leather chair behind it further ahead. A bookcase against one wall, used as a display instead of for what it was intended. Rich, decorated walls. An even richer light fixture hanging from the ceiling... It was everything yours wasn’t – splendor in place of simplistic character.

There was probably some kind of symbolism, there.

His space against yours. Your personality opposite his.

Cut from different ends of the same spectrum of cloth.

“You can take a fuckin’ seat, you know.” Negan stepped around the side of his desk and gestured with one of the glasses to the loveseats while taking a sip from the other. “That couch ain’t gonna fucking bite you.”

“Oh, I know,” you assured him as you both moved to take a seat, accepting the glass of amber liquid from his outstretched hand. “Was just admiring the view.”

Negan leaned against the back of his loveseat opposite you, bringing the arm not holding his glass up to rest against the top. You tapped your fingers against the side of your glass. Typical male move, that. Make themselves look bigger, be the alpha… _Presence._

You mirrored his position as you lifted the glass to your mouth.

“Whiskey,” you realized as you inhaled its scent, then took a sip and let the burn give way to flavor. “The good kind.”

“You won’t fucking find none of that fucking shitty stuff here,” Negan promised. “I don’t pussy around – I have taste.”

“I can tell.” You swilled the liquid around before taking another sip, considering it. “I’ve had better, though… _Pre,_ not Post.”

He raised an eyebrow. _“Pre?”_

“Pre _this_ ,” you clarified, moving your free hand up in a vague circular gesture. “Whatever you wanna call it. An apocalypse, the reckoning…” You shrugged a shoulder, tipping your glass back to your mouth again. “A total clusterfuck…”

Negan chuckled, then leaned forward and extended his arm to raise his glass. “To living post-clusterfuck.”

“Hear, hear.”

You clinked your glasses together before taking what would be your final sip for a while. Being anything less than sober would put you at a disadvantage, and it didn’t escape your notice that Negan didn’t move to drink more after that either. He wasn’t stupid, after all.

Calm as anything, you slowly sat back again and crossed one leg over the other before glancing around again. “This used to be a factory, right?”

“Mhmm.” Negan followed your gaze as it traced over the lines and curves that made up the grandiose picture. “ _Pre.”_

You smiled. So did he.

“You’ve done well with it,” you appreciated. “It works.”

“Thanks.” He put his glass on the table between you with a soft clink, then braced his elbows on his knees as he looked you over. “But I know you didn’t come all the fucking way here just to swap interior design tips.”

You smiled again despite yourself. “You’re right. I didn’t.”

“Then you know I gotta get this shit out the way before we can start…” He tilted his head to the side and let his tongue tease his bottom lip. “Why are you _really_ here, Blue?”

There it was.

Straight to the point, no stepping on eggshells, no fluff…

You respected that.

Honesty, you could work with.

“Full disclosure?” you offered, raising an eyebrow as you mimicked his position and met his gaze.

“It’s four in the goddamn morning,” he pointed out. His tone wasn’t harsh, just blunt. “My bullshit tolerance ain’t got fucking shit left in it for the day, so yeah… the motherfucking truth, please, Doll.”

“Thank God,” you sighed. “I hate bullshit.”

His eyes narrowed, watching you closely as you slowly placed your glass down beside his before letting out a long breath.

“This… _situation_ we’re in.” You looked up to meet his gaze again, not letting the intensity there intimidate you. “It’s my fault.”

Negan raised an eyebrow. A silent _go on._

“Someone I was responsible for killed one of your men and got one of mine severely wounded in the process,” you continued, quiet but strong. “That’s on me. My people have always been under explicit instructions not to harm any of yours, but he did so anyway. That’s unacceptable, and I owed you an apology for your loss. I wanted to give it in person.”

Negan sat back into the loveseat again, eyes not moving from yours as he considered your words. You knew the odds of him letting you speak this long again weren’t exactly great, so took advantage of his silent contemplation while you could.

“I’m truly sorry for what Francis did.” That wasn’t a lie – you really were sorry. This wasn’t a position you ever wanted to be in. “But I hope that his actions won’t prevent you and I from being able to negotiate some kind of ongoing relationship between our communities after this… _problem_ is dealt with. I think we have a lot to offer each other.”

There. You’d said it.

The ball was in his court, now, but you had no idea if he’d hit it back or simply end the game.

He stared at you for a long moment. Long enough to make you think he was swaying towards the latter option.

You’d taken a risk, accepting responsibility so explicitly, but he could demand your head on a stick beside Francis’ and not be wrong in doing so. Only weak leaders hid behind others, and you most certainly were not one of them.

Your man, your fault.

It was why you’d come alone.

“What makes you think there’s a fucking problem?” Negan sounded genuinely interested, and it threw you off a little. You were having a conversation, not being subjected to an interrogation.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

You’d promised honesty, after all.

“Violence is always a problem when it’s not against the dead.” You traced the lip of your glass with your index finger, choosing your next words carefully. “And your reputation precedes you.”

“What fucking reputation is that?” he wondered, the flirty glint in his eyes almost covering the flash of danger. “Because there’s a whole goddamn shit load of things people could say about me, and not all of the pricks are right.”

“But the women are?” you surmised.

Negan winked. “Depends which _fucking_ reputation you’re talking about.”

You let out a frustrated breath.

“I thought we agreed no bullshit?” you challenged, lifting your chin. “You know exactly what people say about you… and why.”

“Bark _and_ bite,” he murmured. You couldn’t help but lift up the corner of your mouth in a half-smile. “I like it. But no goddamn lie here – I’m actually curious, I fucking swear. You don’t strike me as the type to buy into shitty horror stories, Blue. I’m disappointed.”

“I don’t,” you agreed. “But that doesn’t mean I’m also an idiot who fails to understand that every horror story comes from somewhere.”

After a moment, you stood up and slowly walked round towards the back of the loveseat, trailing your fingers over the frame as you did so. His eyes followed you, like a predator watching another predator instead of prey. Wary. Aware.

“They say you’re brutal… merciless… cruel…” You came to a stop halfway along the width of the loveseat and turned to face him again. “The ones that have crossed you say you’re a monster.”

Negan huffed out a chuckle and got to his feet, swiping his glass up off the table as he meandered towards you. You kept your head high and twisted so the side of your hip was brushing against the back of the loveseat as he came to a gradual stop right in front of you.

When his hazel eyes sought out yours, you let him find them.

His voice was low when he spoke. “What about _you_ , Blue? What do you think?”

“I think there are two sides to every story. People only ever choose to see the one where they’re the good guys and someone else is the bad one.” It was so hard not to look away, to take half a step closer instead of back. You lifted a hand and let your fingers brush over the spaces between his on the glass. “Sometimes, the monster is actually a man who’s not afraid to do what needs to be done, and the good guy is a monster wearing man’s skin.”

“That sounds like a _know,_ not a think.”

_Damn it._ You’d said too much.

“I was fooled by that disguise, once.” You broke his gaze to look down at the glass. His fingers were much thicker than yours, leaving little free space. “It didn’t end well.”

Negan was quiet for a second, then nudged his free hand under your chin to guide your face back up. The touch was gentle… coaxing… you let your eyes flick to his again. “For whom?”

You fought back a bitter smile.

“Him.”

You finally closed your fingers around his glass and took it for your own as you side-stepped around him. You lifted it to your lips and downed the rest of the amber liquid in one. Sobriety wasn’t going to help you ignore the memories that were already rising up at the mere mention of Him.

With your back to Negan and the alcohol burning your throat, it was easier to compose yourself. The here and now - that was what mattered.

You stepped towards his desk and put the glass down on it, all too aware of his eyes on you, then twisted around and leaned back against the edge of the smooth wooden surface with one foot crossed over the other.

“It’s really fucking late,” you sighed after a moment of silence. “I don’t mean to be rude, but would you mind if we picked this up again in a few hours? I’m exhausted.”

His face was unreadable when you looked up, but his next words held a softness you neither expected nor understood. “You can stay upstairs.”

Too drained to protest, you followed him up a level and past several doors until he stopped in front of one that was second to last in the row. He unlocked the door with a key from his pocket and pushed it open, flicking on the light so you didn’t have to walk into darkness.

The room was almost as grand as his office, but the walls were a mix of gold and red and a plush bed and chest of drawers replaced the other furniture. You couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been the one to choose what went in it. It seemed to be his kind of style.

“There’s a bathroom through there and a change of clothes in the dresser,” he told you from his place by the door. He hadn’t followed you inside and you were as grateful as you were surprised. You’d half-expected him to make a move, to flirt or push or test... “Breakfast is usually between seven and ten.”

You tucked your hair behind your ear as you headed to the dresser and pulled out an oversized t-shirt that looked comfortable enough to sleep in. “You don’t have to feed me – one of your people will need it more, I’m sure.”

You didn’t mention that you hadn’t found time to eat dinner. Inadvertently taking some of his supplies wasn’t why you’d come here, after all.

“I’ll have someone bring you some around nine,” he insisted. “We can talk after.”

“Thank you.” There was no point arguing. You turned to smile at him politely. “Goodnight, Negan.”

He nodded. “Goodnight.”

When it looked like he wasn't going to say anything more, you started towards the bathroom, only to stop at the sound of his voice before you reached it.

“Blue.” There it was again, that subtle flirtation between your name and his lips. “In your story… which one am I?”

They’d said he was smart.

“That depends.” You glanced over your shoulder to see him with his hand on the door handle, ready to leave. “Which one do you want to be?”

The grin that slowly spread across his face as he shut the door made it impossible to tell.


	5. Can You Kill A Man (with your hands)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your comments and kudos so far - I absolutely adore all of you.
> 
> I feel like this one ought to come with a Negan Being Negan warning... but ya'll don't need that warning, do you?
> 
> One thing I will forewarn you about though: mentions of past non-con, here, folks. That shit don't just disappear from your mind forever. Nothing graphic, though, I promise.
> 
> Let me know your thoughts xx

_Which way are you going to go?_

_To the left, where nothing is right?_

_Or to the right, where nothing is left?_

Sleep didn’t come easy.

You laid awake for at least an hour, curled up on the – as comfortable as it looked – bed, listening to the ambient sounds of a self-contained society that never fully shut down. The floor you were on was one of the top tiers in the factory, making everything echo eerily up from the depths below, but it soothed you to know you weren’t alone even if you were surrounded by potentially dangerous strangers.

Silence and isolation were a haunting combination, now. One you avoided at all costs.

The only time things had ever been quiet was During.

Casual conversation and laughter had been sucked into the void the death of your men had created, leaving an atmosphere that was always tense in its silence, had been so hard to keep breathing in…

Now, After, it was memories that filled that void.

Nightmares, both waking and sleeping.

The ghost of His touch on your skin.

Exhaustion made _that_ feel particularly real, lately.

With a violent shudder, you gathered the blanket and a pillow from the bed and moved to the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

It was a trick Andrew, of all people, had taught you. Complete sensory reset, separating the act of sleeping from the tactile element of a bed. Lying on a mattress big enough for two with soft sheets and the warmth of a thick comforter offered you everything _except_ comfort when the memories associated with them constantly threatened to overwhelm you.

A bathtub, however?

Smooth, hard surfaces on almost every side made them cold, cramped spaces that were everything you didn’t want in a place to lay your head. In other words – perfect.

You fell asleep within minutes and woke up with a jolt what felt like seconds later.

It took you several moments to figure out why.

Knocking.

You blinked slowly as you sat up in the tub, then cursed and hauled yourself out, almost falling over the blanket your legs had tangled themselves in in your haste to unlock the bathroom door.

“Coming!” you croaked as you yanked it open, then half-ran half-stumbled across the room just in time to reach the main door and pull on the handle before the person on the other side had to. “I-”

Your words crumbled to ash in your mouth as the door opened to reveal a blonde-haired man with a grotesque scar on one side of his face standing there with one fist raised and the other holding a tray of food. He looked almost as surprised as you, lips parted and brows slightly higher than normal. But then he schooled his face into a neutral expression and let his fist drop to offer you the tray instead.

“Breakfast,” he explained curtly.

“Oh.” You frowned, still playing mental catch-up after such a harsh awakening, but found yourself accepting the tray of scrambled eggs, toast and orange juice anyway. “Thank you?”

The man nodded, just once. “He’ll be with you shortly.”

You’d almost forgotten Negan’s insistence you ate before meeting again, but tried not to make that obvious. “Right. Of course.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there like a fucking idiot until your brain finally kicked in and you realized who-what-where-when-why.

_Fuck._

You let the door slam shut and ran for the bed, shoving the tray on the table beside it before scrambling to return the bedding to its previously made state. Nobody needed to know where you’d slept, especially not Negan. He’d only prey upon the perceived weakness.

Once everything was righted again and your meager breakfast was churning in your stomach, you moved back to the bathroom to wash your face in the hope of waking yourself up a little more. The cold splashes of water helped, but a quick glance in the mirror was proof you hadn’t slept very well or for very long. Your braced your hands on the edge of the sink and let your head fall forwards, willing yourself to hold it together long enough to make it through what would be a tense few hours.

It was a routine you were all too familiar with.

If it had gotten you through the day During, it could get you through this conversation now.

With a final, steadying breath, you headed back through to the bedroom and grabbed your discarded clothes from the floor as you passed them. You quickly stripped off the borrowed t-shirt you’d slept in and folded it neatly onto the bed, then put on your bra and tank top from the day before in its place.

Your jeans were halfway up your thighs when the door opened without warning.

_Charming._

“Right on time.” You calmly finished pulling your jeans up over your hips. Unhurried. Unconcerned. “If you wouldn’t mind passing me my jacket, I’ll be ready in three.”

The low chuckle that carried across the room in response was enough to confirm what you already knew. Negan had just tried to catch you off-guard.

Unfortunately for him, sudden intrusions like that no longer made you startle.

Privacy wasn’t something He had ever granted you, either.

You fastened your fly and the button above it, listening to Negan’s footsteps move in close behind you.

“Good morning to you too, Blue.”

His voice was lower than before, too deep, too much like… You closed your eyes.

_Keep it together._

Swallowing thickly, you glanced over your shoulder and forced yourself to smile when he held up your jacket. You hadn’t actually expected him to bring it to you.

“Thanks,” you murmured as he helped you slide your arms through the sleeves, like your father used to do for your mother.

While you zipped up the front of the jacket, Negan swept your hair away from the collar and smoothed the fabric across your shoulders, each touch firm and lingering. Your spine stiffened and your skin felt like it had just been doused with ice, but you forced yourself to turn and face him anyway, eyes meeting his without hesitation.

Routine.

He smirked down at you – held himself at full height to make sure of _that_ – then leaned forwards slightly just to intrude on your personal space a little more as his eyes flicked over to the bed. “Sleep well?”

“Like a baby.” You slowly let your gaze trail down his body, lingering over his crotch, then looked up again to watch him run his tongue over his bottom lip – he did it far too often to be anything but deliberate, if last night had been any indication – and raised one eyebrow expectantly. “Your bat not making an appearance this morning?”

His head tipped back as he breathed out a laugh, but then he took half a step forwards, dick first and hands in his pockets just to emphasize it. It didn’t escape your notice that only one of those hands was covered by a leather glove. “Am I gonna fucking need it?”

“That’s up to you, isn’t it?” you pushed back, flirting with the boundary he’d have to be the one to cross. You sure as fuck weren’t initiating anything you didn’t absolutely have to. “Somehow, I doubt your bat goes anywhere you don’t want it to.”

You let your lips curl up in a small smile and stepped around him before he had the chance to respond, giving yourself the space you needed. His eyes followed you as you walked around to the other side of the bed, so you gave him nothing to see but calm neutrality.

“Thanks for breakfast.” You gestured to the tray as you sat on the edge of the bed and bent over to pick up your boots, pulling them on over sockless feet. One of the first things you’d learned when the world stopped making sense was that re-wearing that particular item of clothing for more than one day in a row _always_ sucked.

As you stood up and shoved your socks in your jacket pocket, a thought suddenly occurred to you. “I wasn’t supposed to wait for you to join me before eating, was I?”

“Nope.” Negan’s eyes glinted with mirth as he approached, swiping his thumb over the corner of his mouth. “I’ve already _eaten_ this morning.”

 _God,_ he was vulgar, but at least he was upfront about it.

It was when sex was used as a weapon _out_ of sight that you struggled to remained tethered by your own leash.

“In which case…” You slipped your hands into your back pockets so your breasts pushed up and forward. You’d left your jacket partially undone on purpose. “Where do you want to do this?”

His gaze only slipped to your cleavage for a moment, but you still caught it. When his eyes met yours again, they were darker, but that and a slight quirk of his lips were the only signs he wasn’t as unaffected as he wanted you to think. “Change of plans, Sweetheart.”

You swallowed thickly and tipped your chin up more as a sense of numb calmness settled over you. This was what you’d been waiting for – the moment he’d reveal his true colors and try to prove his dominance over you the same way every man always did when a woman was involved. None of them ever realized that physical and mental power weren’t always synonymous.

“This motherfucking _problem_ of ours…” He stepped forwards and placed his hand on your shoulder, heavy and tight as he steered you both in the direction of the door. Away from the bed. “I’ve figured out how the fuck we’re gonna fucking solve it.”

That threw you. “You have?”

“Fuck yeah, I have,” he murmured. “And you’ve got a fucking front row seat to the show.”

The words settled like a weight in your stomach, ugly and acrid, and you struggled not to stumble as he led you down more flights of stairs than you could count. That was what He had called the execution of your people, like it was a form of gruesome entertainment instead of a public demonstration of stolen power.

You could only hope you would be a spectator for this one, not the star.

That hope started to die as soon as you reached the communal area Negan had chosen as his theater. His lips grazed your ear with his next words, but you were too busy staring at the dozens of people congregated around a quivering, heavily-beaten Francis to really notice. “And… action.”

He trailed his fingers down your back, an unspoken order to stay where you were, then stepped forward.

All sound seemed to get sucked out of the room at once.

It was as impressive as it was eerie, the way everybody knelt. Like human dominos falling before the master, only yourself and Negan were left standing.

He looked back at you and grinned. The King and his subjects.

“Alright, you sorry shits!” he boomed, voice carrying with ease. “Let’s get this fucking party _started!”_

Nobody dared move.

Francis whimpered.

“Fat Joseph,” Negan summoned, back arching into a graceful curve as he swivelled to his left and extended his hand.

 _Fat Joseph_ – who fit his moniker perfectly – looked up, but waited for permission in the form of two leather-clad fingers crooking up before standing. It was then you realized the infamous bat hadn’t been retired for the day, after all.

Negan took the handle in his gloved hand and expertly twirled the bat upright, inspecting it thoroughly. “Were you gentle with her?”

“Uh…” Fat Joseph seemed just as lost as you felt.

“Did you treat her like a lady?” Negan pressed, brows raised expectantly.

For the first time, you felt truly uneasy around him.

Fat Joseph nodded jerkily. “Y-Yes, sir.”

“Did you eat her little pussy like a lady?”

Negan winked at you and smirked as Fat Joseph struggled for words, a mouse caught in a cat’s trap.

“Um… I, uh…”

“I’m just fucking with you, man!” Negan cried, swinging the bat up over his shoulder. “A baseball bat doesn’t have a pussy!”

Fat Joseph started to laugh, but quickly fell silent when nobody else joined in.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Negan ordered, then turned back towards you, casual as anything. “Blue.”

Monster or man. Man or monster. You had no idea.

You stepped forwards anyway.

“I owe you a motherfucking apology,” he announced. “I’m not normally this fucking rude, but…” He took a step closer, meeting you halfway. “It’s not every goddamn day that a lady like you shows up at my door in the middle of the fucking night. I got distracted.”

He grinned, slow and deadly, then swung.

The barbed end of the bat stopped an inch from your nose.

You didn’t flinch.

That didn’t stop your heart started beating triple-time, though.

“This… is Lucille,” he introduced proudly. “She can be a _bitch_ when she’s fucking thirsty, but don’t worry…” With a flick of his wrist, the bat – _Lucille –_ dropped away from your face. “She can play nice, too.”

You refused to shrink away from him or his deadliness. Not even for a second.

“You know us ladies…” You shrugged. “We do all sorts of things when we’re thirsty.”

He caught the double entendre greedily, just like you knew he would.

“Oh, Blue…” He leaned in close, like the two of you were best friends sharing a secret. “I _know.”_

As he turned on his heel and stepped away, he gave that same two-tone whistle his men had deployed the night before. Everyone stood up, almost in unison, but remained silent. Waiting. Watching.

“Now that we’re all on the same fucking page, I gotta admit… I was _not_ expecting this shit to be happening this morning.” Like a Shakespearean villain delivering their climatic monologue, his words reached every corner of the vast space around you, filling it with an energy that was both unnerving and magnetic. “But… some people left in this _clusterfuck_ of a world still know how to play by the rules, and my girl Blue, here, is one of them.”

Eyes fell upon you, but you kept your expression impassive. Unaffected. Like this was planned, not a complete whirlwind of unpredictability. Like Negan wasn’t the only one running the show.

“ _Others_ …” he continued sharply, turning his attention to Francis, who had stopped shaking and instead seemed to have resigned himself to the fate that awaited him, even if nobody apart from Negan knew what it was. “Seem to think the rules no longer apply. That we’re suddenly fucking savages, who can go wherever the fuck they want, whenever the fuck they want, and shoot the _shit_ out of whomever they fucking want, just because they fucking feel like it.

“Now, I know what some of you might be thinking… So let me make something perfectly fucking clear from the get-go. _This_ miserable cocksucker is here because he didn’t just break _our_ rules.” He shook his head in disappointment. “No, if that wasn’t shitty enough, he also broke his _own_ community’s rules when he decided to take a pop at The Saviors last night. He took it upon himself to go outside the lines that separate us from those dead pricks outside, and killed one of the people who keep every single fucking one of you fuckers safe and fed. An attack on them is an attack on all of us. And for that, he’s gotta fucking pay.”

He stepped closer to Francis and used Lucille’s barbs to force him to look up. You inhaled sharply at the state of Francis’ face. At the loathing and fear in his half swollen shut eyes.

You’d seen it before. In your father.

“You didn’t think you’d fucking get away with that shit, did you?” Negan almost growled. This was the monster everybody feared. But you still saw the showman behind it. The puppeteer. “You killed one of my men, and from what I hear? You got one of your own boys shot, too _._ Not fucking cool at all, _Francis._ No wonder Blue was gonna fucking kill you, if she hadn’t hauled your stupid piece of shit ass over here instead.”

Francis looked at you, disbelief cutting through fear.

“Oh, you don’t believe me? Let’s ask the lady, shall we?” Negan taunted. “Am I lying, Blue?”

How could you have been stupid enough to _hope?_

Of course you were his co-star for this.

It was why he’d made this viewing so public.

“No,” you confirmed. Why bother trying to hide? You weren’t going to blame anyone else for your actions, here. Your decision, your responsibility. “I’d still do it now.”

And you would. You’d do anything to end this grotesque pantomime.

The expression on Francis’ face didn’t do anything to change that.

“Isn’t she badass?” Negan lauded, a shark’s smile on his lips. “I _like_ her. You, however… I fucking remember _you_ from the last goddamn time we met. You were with that group that tried to steal from me, weren’t you? Lined up next to that blonde chick. What the fuck happened to that one, anyway? She took one Hell of a fucking hit.”

Francis flinched, and you let your eyes fall shut for a moment, remembering his wife’s face as she’d laid dying on the same bed Andrew was hopefully still being patched up in.

 “Oh, that fucking _sucks_ ,” Negan sighed, reading between the lines. As if he hadn’t already known. “But that’s all the more reason why you should’ve fucking known better than to try to fuck with my fucking Saviors a _second_ time. Or are you really just that much of a selfish prick? I mean, what kind of stupid motherfucking cunt of an asshole drags _every-fucking-one_ along with him on his suicide run, _knowing_ the consequences first hand? Do _you_ understand it, Blue? ‘Cause I most certainly motherfucking don’t.”

“No,” you replied, because it was the truth. Francis knew the price, but was willing to make your people have to pay it anyway. “I don’t get it either.”

“You hear that, Francis?” Negan tilted his head and grinned. “She thinks you’re as batshit crazy as I do. Which leaves me with another fucking problem to solve.”

You couldn’t help it. You tensed, expecting him to round on you, now.

“What the holy _fuck_ am I gonna do with you?” he wondered out loud. “Blue doesn’t want you. _I_ sure as fuck don’t want you. And Lucille? Shit, my dirty girl is goddamn _thirsty_ … She wants _everyone_ right now.” He paused for the drama. “But… I’m a man short. Thanks for that, by the way. Now there’s slack in the rope, and I gotta run a _really tight_ fucking ship around here or else people die, so its gotta get picked up, somehow.”

You clenched your jaw.

“Blue?” he beckoned, smiling at you as he flirted with your name. “Come help me out a sec?”

The look in his eyes was predatory, dangerous… You held your chin high and steeled your resolve.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

You took your position at center stage and resisted the urge to step back when Negan reached out to touch you. His hand curled around your hip and pulled you in, your front pressing against his side as his fingers slipped round to your lower back to keep you there.

“Where did Simon shoot your boy?”

You blinked. Then answered, “Left thigh.”

“Hmm…” He held your gaze for several moments before ducking his head so his lips teased your ear and the tip of his nose toyed with your hair. “That boy treat you like a lady?”

“He respects me,” you replied honestly, tilting your head closer to Negan’s instead of away. “Never lets me down.”

He inhaled deeply, fingers flexing against your back, then murmured, “Good.”

He straightened up again, but didn’t let you go. He wasn’t done with you, yet.

“That settles it,” he announced. “ _Francis,_ I need my pounds of flesh, and Jeremy? Well, he wasn’t exactly lacking in that department, if you get what I fucking mean, so you… You’re gonna work my fences for a while, pick up some of that fucking _slack_ you created. And _then_ , when you’re fucking _dead_ , you’re gonna _continue_ to work for me by guarding that fucking wall until your meat sack rots off and your fucking bones fall out, 'cause putting Jeremy up there's out the motherfucking question since you put that fucking hole in his head, now, isn't it?"

_Jesus._

“But.”

Negan looked to you and smiled, squeezing you tight against him. Your hand came up to his stomach in a feeble attempt to steady yourself.

_Oh, fuck._

“My mother raised me to be a fucking gentleman, and I can’t just take all the fun for myself now, can I? So…”

He twirled Lucille and caught her in his gloved hand, barbed-end first, then offered you the handle.

“Ladies first.”


	6. Go Against Me (you'll die hard)

_Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster._

_If you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you._

You knew better than to take the bat straight away.

Instead, you looked down at Francis’ frozen form, and a mixture of emotions hit you at once.

Anger. Frustration. Resentment. Pity.

Your fingers twitched against Negan’s stomach.

Acceptance.

Your gaze shifted to the man who had just given you his blessing to maim another. “Is this your way of giving me permission to play with your bat?”

Negan said nothing in response, but his eyes glinted and his lips twitched and his thumb stroked across your back in a slow arc, filling in the blanks.

You moved your hand from his stomach and traced your index finger around the edge of the handle, lazy but purposeful. His eyes followed every motion, then focused on your bottom lip as you teased it with your tongue.

“How much movement’s required?” You let your fingertip run down Lucille’s shaft, then curled your hand around it loosely, not quite holding but making your intent clear. When Negan’s eyebrow quirked upwards, you let out a breathy laugh and smiled almost-coquettishly. “For working the wall.”

Negan grinned, slow and loaded. “Some.”

You looked to Francis and felt a sudden twist in your stomach. You couldn’t do this, physically or emotionally, while he was on his knees.

“Stand up.”

When Francis didn’t so much as twitch, you moved away from Negan’s side and leaned down, grabbing his face harshly enough to for his cheeks to squash together painfully. He was making this so much harder than it had to be. On both of you.

“I said _stand. up.”_

You half-pulled, half-forced him to his feet and saw his eyes immediately dart around, seeking a way out.

“Go on. Try it,” you dared. You dropped your hand from his face and stepped back, gesturing in the direction of the door you’d entered The Sanctuary through the previous night. “See how far you get.”

Francis didn’t move.

You huffed out a bitter laugh. “Didn’t think so.”

“B-B-Blue…” he stammered weakly, the panic on his face almost comical. “I’m s-s-sorry.”

“You’re sorry you got caught,” you murmured darkly. “I’m not.”

“P-Pl-Please…” His eyes flickered to Negan and he whimpered.

“Don’t look at him,” you scolded as you gripped his face tightly again. “Eyes on _me,_ asshole.”

Francis’ breath hitched and his eyes widened.

He knew he was fucked.

“ _You_ fired those rounds. _You_ started this,” you reminded him. “But this, right here? It’s all _me.”_

And it was.

Every action. Every word.

Negan may have been the gun, but it was your finger on the trigger.

If you hadn’t brought him here, you’d have banished him from the community.

By walker or by man, the result would have been the same.

“I took you in. I saved your life. I even tried to save your _wife_.” You knew Negan’s eyes were on you, but your focus was solely on Francis. This was between you and him. “You ungrateful son of a bitch. I _warned_ you, but you still pushed. And you pushed. And now… you’re gonna spend the rest of your miserable existence wishing you’d never crossed me.”

Francis started to cry, to beg, to plead… You felt no remorse.

“Blue! _Blue!”_

You let your hand fall to your side and turned away from Francis to face Negan instead, only for thick fingers to clamp around your wrist in desperation.

Your reaction was immediate.

Francis was on the floor screaming in less than a second, clutching his bloody, obliterated knee with both hands and rocking from side to side in agony.

“Holy goddamn!”

You stared down at the baseball bat you now held. The barbed end was bloody, marring the smooth wooden surface with red.

“Did you _hear_ that shit?” Negan laughed loudly as Francis continued to writhe and wail. “You fucking popped his fucking kneecap out!”

You twirled Lucille in your hand, testing her weight. You hadn’t even consciously grabbed her. It had been instinctive.

“Fuck, Blue, I under-fuckin’-estimated you!” You felt Negan move behind you to stare down at the man screeching on the floor. “You’re even more of a motherfucking badass than I thought! That shit was something _else!_ ”

Rage. Shock. Pride. Power. Your blood _hummed._

“Does he need both hands to work the wall?” He didn’t deserve to keep them.

Negan moved to your side, but although he was certainly close enough to, he didn’t touch you. Like there was suddenly a line around you he didn’t want to cross. You turned your head slightly and found your gaze drawn to his lips as he spoke.

“Yes, he fucking does.”

Your eyes flicked up to his. Saw how they burned from within.

“Mmm…” His teeth sunk into his bottom lip, teasing it. His voice lowered to a soft growl. “There’s my dirty girl.”

His fingers slowly curled around Lucille and you swallowed thickly before letting him take her from you. The heat suddenly building inside you made you shiver.

Adrenaline. That was all it was.

“D, get this piece of shit off my floor and back to his hole,” Negan commanded, finally moving away from you to swing Lucille over his shoulder. Francis’ blood dripped to the floor behind him. “The rest of you fuckers are free to go.”

As everybody else moved to get back to their daily activities, the blonde-haired man who’d delivered your breakfast that morning stepped forward to grab Francis by the front of his shirt. You watched the crippled man struggle and whimper as his – well and truly _fucked –_ left leg trailed in a gruesomely unnatural way with each movement.

He bled the same red as Andrew.

Fuck, you hoped he was still breathing. That Marie had plucked another miracle from thin air and that letting Negan take Lucille back before you could take another swing at Francis wouldn’t be something you’d later regret. If Andrew didn’t make it, Negan would end up with no choice but to hang his new worker _on_ the wall the next time you came.

If there _was_ a next time, that is.

You watched D drag Francis away, face impassive.

What was done was done.

You had other, more important things to worry about.

“Thanks for letting me get that out my system.”

You didn’t need to turn to know Negan was listening.

“She’s impressive.” You sighed, looking down at the blood pool you’d created, then clarified, “ _Lucille_.”

“I _know_ ,” Negan teased. You turned to see him smirking at you from several feet away. “But that shit was a one time only deal, Sweetheart.” He swung Lucille out to the side and pointed her like an arrow the direction you’d walked in from, a silent request to follow. “Nobody gets to fucking play with her but me.”

“Thanks for making a one-off exception, then.” You placed your hands in you back pockets and moved towards him. “Sorry I wasn’t more gentle when I took her from you.”

“I’m sure you’ll make it up to her.” Negan fell into step behind you, hand hovering an inch from your lower back as his voice rumbled in your ear, “But we got a conversation to have, first. I’m a man of my word, after all.”

Unconsciously, you slowed your steps just enough for his hand to make contact with your body. “You’re willing to negotiate?”

“After that display of motherfucking badassery?” he murmured, and the heat of his body seemed to seep into yours as he guided you towards the stairs, making it hard to focus. "Fuck yeah, I am."

You’d expected sarcasm, a lewd comment, some aloof, forced mystery or a trip to a cell… but you’d heard nothing but sincerity in his words. It confused the shit out of you.

Monster or man? Man or monster?

You weren’t sure which skin he was wearing or why.

When you reached his office, he stroked his thumb over your back and stepped forward to open the door for you.

“Ladies first, right?” you echoed his words from before.

He grinned when you stepped past him. “Always.”

As he followed you inside and locked the door behind him, you couldn’t help but notice the tension between the two of you had shifted, somehow. Not as thick. Not as suffocating. But still there.

You took a seat without being prompted this time, and watched as Negan strolled over to his desk to gently lay Lucille down before lifting the decanter from the night before in silent offering. You shrugged a shoulder and sat back against the cushions. “Why not?”

Negan grabbed the same glasses as last time and headed back over, only instead of taking his place opposite you like before, he sat _with_ you, knee brushing against yours as he turned and handed you a glass. You twisted in your seat to face him and watched him pour you a drink before doing the same for himself.

He set the decanter on the table with a clunk, then raised his glass towards yours.

“To negotiating,” you offered, before he could suggest something.

He smirked.

“To negotiating,” he agreed, then touched glasses before you both swallowed a mouthful of the whiskey.

It burned the same as before, but you let it wash over you this time. Enjoyed it a little more. You relaxed sideways against the back of the loveseat and let the side of one knee come up to rest on the lower cushion, eyes on his as always.

Negan took a second sip from his glass, considering you, then put it on the table and shifted so you were properly facing each other, his position mirroring yours. “C’mon then, Blue. Lay your cards out.”

“Alright.” You tapped your fingers against the side of your glass, collecting your thoughts. “My community was originally a fully functioning farm. Crops. Animals… Solar power. But I know you already have a supply of those from other communities.”

Negan dipped his chin. “I do.”

“What about in-house processes?” you probed. “If you didn’t have the others… would your people be able to sustain themselves?”

Negan didn’t respond, confirming what you'd suspected all along.

“We can give them the knowledge to,” you offered. “Teach them how to rear livestock. Grow crops. Filter water in case yours gets contaminated… The stuff that’ll keep you all alive, make it so you don’t have to rely on scavenger runs and an external supply chain that could fall through without warning.”

Negan’s eyebrow raised.

“Don’t pretend you haven’t thought about that possibility.” You swallowed back more of the whiskey. “You’re a smart man, Negan. Fear works to start with, there’s no doubt about that, but oppressed people will always rebel. They always fight back eventually, and _sometimes_ , those lambs rise up and become lions.”

“Is that what you did?”

You held his gaze, giving him his answer.

Negan smiled slowly. “What the fuck would you want in return?”

“Quid pro quo,” you said simply. “We train you, you train us.”

He lifted his arm to the back of the couch, eyebrow raised. “Go on.”

“My community can take care of itself,” you assured him. “We’ve got no problem when it comes to taking out the dead, and our defences are strong enough to withstand a herd. But not all of my people can fire a gun or are confident fighting man-on-man. Your Saviors could teach them.”

“What’s wrong with the men you already fucking have?”

You downed the rest of your whiskey, then leaned forward to place your empty glass on the table. “They got slaughtered.”

Negan's salt and pepper beard shifted as he clenched his jaw and looked down at the table, expression turning serious. It was strange, to see his face showing something other than amusement, anger or desire.

“But you teach the ones that are left how to make sure that never happens again? How to survive?” You met his gaze, unwavering and strong. “When there’s an uprising - because there’s no _if_ about that – you’ll have an ally.”

He chewed that over for a moment. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” you confirmed. “I don’t want your stuff, and you won’t need mine. We keep our communities separate, business as usual, but with an open channel of communication and co-operation. Trading skills, updating each other on herd movements… Your outposts run low on something or my scouters need a place to crash for the night? We help each other. Quid pro quo.”

Negan stared at you for several long moments, then smiled almost fondly.

“You got me wrapped around your little finger, you know that?”

You laughed under your breath. You doubted that. “Is that a yes?”

“It’s a maybe,” he corrected. “I ain’t calling you a fucking liar, Blue, but I gotta see exactly what’s under the goddamn hood _before_ I buy the fucking car, you understand? Can’t be making fucking deals with someone unless I know they can hold up their end and won’t give me shit.”

“You want to visit The Thicket.” It didn’t surprise you – you’d have done the same. “That’s not a problem.”

“Good. Then you won’t mind giving me some fucking directions.”

He stood and offered you his hand, pulling you to your feet in front of him before walking you to his desk and rolling out a map. It didn’t take long to explain the rough location of your land, but you deliberately didn’t let him know where your treehouses were. While things seemed to be going your way on the surface, you weren’t going to risk a surprise attack. Your men would be on high alert from the moment you got back, ready in case of an emergency.

You just hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

When things were settled, Negan walked you back outside with Lucille returned to her rightful place over his shoulder, and it both amazed and creeped you out every time one of his people lowered themselves to their knees before you on the way. The physical proof of how much power Negan had over his own followers reminded you of how terrified the other communities he controlled were of him.

No matter how genuine he’d seemed during your conversation, he was a dangerous man who had done some terrible things and could do the same to you.

Despite that, you knew you could be just as lethal if necessary, and that combination could turn out to be a huge advantage for your people, not just his.

You just had to be willing to try.

Once you reached your vehicle, Negan opened the driver’s side door for you and leaned against it, gesturing for you to get in.

“I got a fucking shitload of respect for you, Blue,” he admitted lowly as you climbed inside and buckled up. “So, I’m gonna give you a few days to get your house in order, make sure everyone back home knows the fucking score. But if you start planning shit or try fucking with me…”

“I don’t want to start something,” you assured him. “I just want the best for my people. Same as you.”

With a nod, he pushed the door shut, but you immediately rolled the window down so you could still hear him and that seemed to please him for some reason, for his lips quirked up in a half-smile as he bent over so his face was almost level with yours.

“I’m not a bad guy, Blue.” His eyes seemed to bore into your very soul, his gaze was so intense. “Don’t make me turn into one.”

You didn’t hesitate. “I won’t.”


	7. Decision (it's better to follow me)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Negan in this one, but he'll be making another appearance soon, don't you worry about that.
> 
> Thank you so much for all your kudos and comments, you guys are the best and I LIVE for the notification emails that pop into my inbox!
> 
> This was a bit of a tough-y to write, so I hope you enjoy it xx

_Ultimately, leadership is not about glorious crowning acts. It's about keeping your team focused on a goal and motivated to do their best to achieve it, especially when the stakes are high and the consequences really matter._

_Sometimes, when you sacrifice something precious, you're not really losing it._

_You're just passing it on to someone else._

It was mid-afternoon when the metal gate that acted as one of two access points for your external fence came into view. You’d whistled out the _all clear_ signal when you’d passed your first outpost, so two of your guards were already waiting to let you in by the time you eventually reached it. Instead of simply passing right through, though, you slowed to a stop and leaned partway out the still-opened window.

“Grady? Hannah?” you called out softly. They didn’t hesitate to come closer, rifles across their chests and eyes sharp and aware. Always vigilant, always ready.

“Trouble on its way, Boss?” Grady asked, finger moving to the trigger automatically. His ROTC training had served him well.

“I hope not,” you sighed. “But eyes open anyway, okay? If you see anything, no matter how small, signal as usual and stay out of sight. Don’t make any moves unless you’re firing back.”

Hannah met your gaze, expression tightening. “They’re coming, aren’t they? The Saviors?”

You couldn’t lie to them.

“Yes. I don’t know when, and I don’t know for sure what their intentions are, so I need you all to be on high alert for now,” You glanced back behind you and drummed your fingers on the steering wheel. “Spread the word to the others – I’ll fill you in properly next shift change. This is just a precaution, okay? Don’t panic until we have to.”

They both nodded in understanding, then Hannah turned and lifted the bird call whistle all your guards carried to her lips, signalling for the guys manning the internal gates to open up. You smiled gratefully and ducked your head back inside, only for Hannah to bend down and meet your gaze again before you could even take the brakes off.

“Glad you’re home safe, Blue,” she murmured softly.

You covered her hand in yours and squeezed, brief but firm. She was one of your most loyal people, like Andrew and Lila. Had been even before you’d traded places with her. “Thanks, Hannah.”

She smiled, then straightened up and banged twice on the roof of the car as you put it into drive and started forward again. In the rear-view mirror, you could see both her and Grady head back towards the trees that housed their posts without hesitation. They’d protect The Thicket at all costs, same as you.

As you drove towards the internal gates, the uneasiness that had been building in your stomach ever since you’d left The Sanctuary started to settle. Not by much, but enough. People like Hannah and Grady would understand why you’d done what you had, and those who didn’t agree wouldn’t make you regret it. This thing, this _life_ you’d all built… it was worth saving.

One of the many advantages that came from staying at the farm from the beginning of this fucked up mess was that you’d been able to build your inner walls high and strong early on, then push the outer perimeter further and further away from the central area you all lived in over time. While it was a relief to know you could then utilise those fields without the dead having free reign over them, you hadn’t built it or set up the outposts to mark out your land. Those acres would have always been part of your farm, with or without that high perimeter fence.

It had always been about making sure that, instead of spending each day too afraid to make noise for fear of being heard by the dead, your people could be themselves when they were inside those inner walls. Their sounds could carry, but nothing or nobody would be there to hear it without you knowing. The space granted them freedom to do more than just survive, and it never failed to make you smile to hear laughter or talking or just plain _life_ growing louder the closer you got to home.

Today was no exception.

The solid steel gates started to rattle once you were in range, even though there was no sign of your guards over the top of the wall. There never was. They were always there, though - one at each corner on specially designed platforms, and another pair split either side of the gates themselves. Twenty-four hours a day, no exceptions. Just in case.

As soon as the gates slid open, you were greeted by the familiar sight of your community’s children running around the farmhouse’s yard. A quick glance at your watch told you they were in the middle of their version of gym class, which explained the hustle and bustle of your people going about their assigned tasks for the day around them. ‘Normal’ working hours were a thing of the past, but you tried to make sure that parents were given duties that coincided with lesson times when you could. Family was important, now more than ever.

You slowed down as you drove along the track that looped from the gates to the back of the farmhouse, not wanting to risk throwing dirt up at anyone as you passed, then groaned under your breath when several people turned to stare at you. The looks on their faces were proof last night’s incident hadn’t been kept as firmly under wraps as you had hoped. It shouldn’t have surprised you, really – your absence would have been noticed even if they hadn’t heard Andrew’s screams during the night.

Your stomach dropped. _Andrew._

You pulled up in your usual space by the rear doors and hopped out, not bothering to wind up the window in your rush to get inside. Grand theft auto wasn’t exactly an issue when no vehicles would make it through that gate without your express permission. You ran up the steps and across the lower floor, ignoring Lila’s call of your name from the top of the stairs as you passed through the entrance hallway, and hurried through to the med bay.

It was empty. Clean. Like nothing had happened. Like blood hadn’t been puddling on the floor in front of you just hours before. Even the bed you’d wheeled Francis out on was back in its usual place.

You swallowed thickly, feeling a horrendous cold numbness settle in your bones.

“Blue.”

You closed your eyes. “When?”

“This morn-” Lila’s voice cracked. “This morning. Dawn.”

You’d have been in the bathtub, then. Coping with things the way he’d taught you to.

“Michael?” Fuck, it was so hard to talk. Think. _Breathe._

“He donated what he could, but…”

“It wasn’t enough,” you croaked. If you’d been faster, if you’d had the right equipment, if you’d done more to stop him going… “Wh-Who?”

“Jacob. Before the turn. But Michael, he, uh… he wouldn’t let go of Andr- of his hand. Said he didn’t want to leave him.”

You opened your eyes and looked up to the ceiling, willing yourself not to lose it. _Oh, Michael._ “Where is he?”

“Upstairs.”

“Okay. Okay, and…”

“Buried. With the others. I hope that’s…”

You nodded, even though it was anything but.

You should’ve been there.

“Who knows?”

“About…” She couldn’t say his name. “Some. But not how or why. I thought you’d want to be the one to…”

“Good,” you sighed. This would be easier if you told everyone at once. “That’s good.”

You cleared your throat and turned to face her. She looked as wrecked as you felt.

“Once the kids are done in class, I’m gonna… I’m gonna need you to take over, keep them occupied so I can tell everyone else what’s…” You looked down at the floor and took a steadying breath. “What’s going on with The Saviors.”

“How did it…” She shifted uneasily from foot to foot. “Did Negan make you…?”

You shook your head. “No, nothing like that. We just talked. I’ll fill you in when the guards switch, but right now I gotta… I gotta speak to Michael. The rest can wait.”

Lila stepped forward, hand raised as if to touch your arm. You flinched.

“Call the meeting. Entrance hall in ten,” you managed to get out, wrapping one arm across your body. You felt sick. Tight-chested. Adrift.

“Are you…”

“Just do it,” you pleaded, voice quiet and weaker than you wanted.

“Okay.”

You nodded numbly, grateful she wasn’t trying to argue, but when she reached for your hand, you almost wished she had. Anger was easier to deal with than grief.

“Blue…” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

You squeezed her hand, unable to speak, then stepped around her and headed for the stairs, moving on autopilot more than anything else. Every step was like wading through quicksand, sucking you down into the abyss that was _loss_ and _pain_ and _mourning_ , but you couldn’t break down. Not when Michael had just lost his only remaining family member and your people were in the dark about the jeopardy you very well may have put them in when you told Negan The Thicket’s location.

So, you blinked away the burn in your eyes, unclenched your fists, and forced yourself to hold it together just a little longer.

Their needs came first. Always.

And right now, Michael needed you more than the rest of them combined.

Finding him curled up in your bed was proof of that.

Once a storage area for your father’s files, your bedroom was the smallest sleep space in the farmhouse, barely big enough for the queen bed and narrow chest of drawers you’d moved in there. It was the only one not shared with other people. The only room that was truly private.

Where else did he have to go?

You closed the door quietly and slowly moved towards the bed, footsteps soft but loud enough to be heard. Although he didn’t acknowledge you come in, you knew he wasn’t sleeping.

Instead, he was staring at the wall, pale, small, and looking so lost it made your heart _ache_.

You remembered how he was feeling right then. Knew the pain that was so all-consuming, it could make a person numb. Understood all too well that nothing probably seemed real to him anymore.

Even if there was something you could say that would help him, words weren’t what he needed in that moment. So, you laid down on the bed beside him and looked up at the ceiling, hands folded on top of your stomach.

Michael stared right through you.

And then you heard him sniffle.

You lifted your arm, curling it around him as he rested his head on your chest and started to sob. Gut-wrenching, grief-stricken sounds that made his entire body jerk and your eyes fill with tears. You kissed the top of his head and squeezed him as tight as he was you, like you could hold all his broken pieces together by sheer force of will alone. You wished it was enough. You wished there was something you could do to fix it. Undo the last twenty-four hours. Bring Andrew back.

There wasn’t.

He cried himself to the point of exhaustion, body trembling and breathing ragged, and you were glad. It was the only way he’d be able to sleep, the only release he’d get from the pain, even though it would only be temporary. You knew that from experience.

The ten minutes you’d asked Lila for had come and gone, but you didn’t care. Andrew wouldn’t have left anybody to go through this alone, if he were still… if he were still alive. So, you held Michael until his breaths evened out and his grip loosened. Until his body gave itself over to sleep and your own tears stopped flowing.

Only when you were sure he was well and truly out did you carefully shift out from under him, replacing your body with a pillow so he had something to hold in case he woke up while you were gone. You pushed his hair back from his face, then kissed his forehead before hurrying out the room. Away from the grief. Away from the memories.

You shut the door quietly and leaned back against it, head knocking against the wood with a soft thud. Then you took a deep breath. Wiped your face. And kept going.

Everyone was waiting in the entrance hall when you reached the top of the stairs, talking amongst themselves. Dylan and his team. Marie and hers. The self-trained farmhands who helped with housekeeping. The scouters who weren’t afraid to milk cows. The cooks who could kill walkers with one hand tied behind their backs. No class divides. No higher statuses. Each of them just as important as the other.

You swallowed thickly and started down the stairs, the sound of your footsteps too loud and too unsteady even to your ears. But unlike when Negan entered a room, your people didn’t kneel before you. In fact, it took them several seconds to even realize you were there, and by that time your legs had stopped shaking and you were almost at the bottom, just enough steps up for them to be able to see you. Never towering over, never assuming status.

“Blue?”

Their voices rose up at once - a tidal wave of noise that made it hard to focus.

“Is it true?”

“What happened?”

“I heard screa-”

“- safe?”

You held a hand up, willing them to quieten down. “Please… Let me talk.”

The gradual hush that followed was almost as bad as the noise. It reminded you of being in The Sanctuary, with Negan lording over his people. Not something you ever wanted for yourself.

“Thank you. I know you have a lot of questions, and I _will_ answer them, but first I need you all to listen.” You took a steadying breath and kept your expression calm. “Last night, while our scouters were on a supply run, we were betrayed. This person... _Francis…_ murdered one of The Saviors without due cause.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Urgent. Fearful.

“As a result, one of our own was injured. And it devastates me to say that, despite Marie and her team’s hard work… Andrew died in the early hours of this morning.”

If saying his name out loud was agonizing, the looks on people’s faces were enough to eviscerate you. Disgust. Devastation. Rage. Everything you’d been feeling, they felt too. And that was why you knew what most of them were thinking.

“For a lot of you, the first instinct will be to blame The Saviors for our loss. I understand why. We have all suffered, every one of us. And not just at the hands of the dead.” You fought the urge to stare down at your hands and kept your chin up, looking out over the crowd. “But hear me loud and clear: Andrew would still be with us now, had it not been for Francis’ actions. His death is not The Saviors’ fault.”

Silence.

Painful, tense silence.

You didn’t let it get to you. You didn’t need their validation, not for this.

“I went to The Sanctuary… and I spoke to Negan.” The shock on people’s faces made you want to recoil, but you didn’t get the luxury of hiding away. Your decision, your responsibility. “He and I have come to an arrangement. One that – _I hope_ – will ensure the peace is kept between our community and his. But I cannot do it without your help. All of us will have a part to play.”

You moved down a step, then another, until you were almost level with them.

“We’ve all heard the rumors about Negan and his men. I don’t know for sure if he’s actually willing to co-operate or if this is all one big scheme,” you admitted. There was no point in lying when the truth would come out eventually, by circumstance or Negan himself. “If he turns on us, I won’t be able to guarantee anyone’s safety. We will all be at risk. But I promise I’m doing everything in my power to make sure it doesn’t come to that.”

You always would, even if it cost you dearly.

“Every one of you put your faith in me when you joined this community. So, if what I’m about to ask of you makes you question that faith? I won’t force you into being part of it, and I certainly won’t stop anyone from leaving The Thicket if they’d rather be on the other side of that wall.” You’d be disappointed, but certainly wouldn’t blame them if they did. “All I ask is that you reserve judgement until I’ve finished explaining. After that, anyone who still wishes to go will do so with a week’s worth of supplies and an armed escort to a safer area of their choosing. However, if this is already too much and you would rather jump ship before that… well, you know where the door is.”

Nobody moved.

“You’ve got us this far, ma'am,” Dylan called out softly, breaking the silence that had followed your words. “The least we can do is listen.”

And they did.

Not everybody agreed with the decision you’d made or the arrangement you’d proposed. Hell, you hadn’t expected them to. But they didn’t have to like something to accept it, and accept it they had. The only people who expressed their doubts were the ones who’d already outrun Negan once, but even they were willing to take the night to think it through after you’d explained things in full.

You’d do your best to protect them if they stayed – with Dylan’s men having finished their work on the first part of the emergency escape route, you’d be able to hide them all if need be – but you’d also meant what you’d said when you’d told them nobody would be forced into doing anything they didn’t want to. You weren’t a dictator, after all.

So, come nightfall, anybody who wasn’t willing to go to The Sanctuary to help train Negan’s people had been struck from the list, and you’d packed emergency supply packs just in case the ones who’d seemed uncertain chose to leave. You wouldn’t bother trying to convince them not to – they’d just be a liability, and that was something nobody needed right then. Negan would prey upon their doubts, if given half a chance.

You’d also managed to fill in your guards when they returned from their outposts, and every single one of them had immediately gone back out instead of taking their allocated time off without you even needing to ask. Their whistles echoed every half an hour, now, but instead of calming you, it just made you feel more on edge. The only reason they were on high alert was that _you’d_ inadvertently told Negan how to barge down your front door. You may as well have given him the keys.

And yet, despite that, the majority of your people who were capable to had still volunteered to help. Even Lisa and Abigail, the women who helped run the children’s classes, had offered to help teach The Sanctuary’s people if you came up short. They were putting their lives in your hands once again and following you down that rabbit hole because they _trusted_ you.

You lifted the glass of scotch you’d been nursing for the past hour to your lips.

Andrew had trusted you, too.

And now he was buried next to your father, along with the other men and women who had once come to your farm for shelter.

You weren’t conceited enough to think every death lay on your shoulders – loss was part of the world you all lived in now, and deep down, you knew you couldn’t have stopped Andrew going on that supply run. He’d have found a way to go, regardless. You couldn’t have stopped Francis pulling that trigger, either, because you weren’t there. But you _were_ the one who allowed him in in the first place, so this one? This loss? You would allow yourself to feel the weight of, but only until sunrise signalled the start of a new day.

Indulging in grief would only lead to more.

“Thanks for the crown, Dad.”

Your empty glass shattered against the wall.


	8. Tomorrow (back at it)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay - am currently on holiday so WiFi is limited!!
> 
> Thanks for your lovely comments as always, and I hope you enjoy the tension in this one!
> 
> Let me know! xx

_Leadership is getting players to believe in you. If you tell a teammate you're ready to play as tough as you're able to, you'd better go out there and do it. Players will see right through a phony. And they can tell when you're not giving it all you've got._

You’d always been an early riser. No matter how little sleep you got, you’d always forced yourself to _get up and at ‘em_ , even as a kid. Back then, it would be to help feed the chickens or whatever other task your father wanted you to do that morning and, while you’d carried that through with you into adulthood out of habit, in the past year or however long it had been since _this_ all started, it had become a matter of necessity. The dead were more active at night, so every moment of valuable light that wasn’t used for _something_ was a wasted one, and asking the farmhands to work while you slept in just didn’t feel right.

So, at dawn every day, you’d drag yourself out of bed, brush your teeth and wash your face, then change into your old workout gear – yoga pants and a crop top with an oversized hoodie thrown over the top. Yesterday had been the first time you’d broken that routine in months; morning runs, you’d found, chased away whatever nightmares still plagued your mind after you’d woken up, and shook off enough of the exhaustion that never fully left your body for your mind to become more alert and focused. Plus, it was the only real chance you got to regularly build up your stamina, which was more important now than ever. The living could only outrun the dead for as long as their bodies were capable, after all.

Before leaving, you jogged across the yard towards the barn, that day’s task list in hand, and were unsurprised to see buckets of feed lined up alongside silent weapons and the emergency whistles anyone not inside the main wall had to carry on them at all times. Everybody was used to that particular routine, since it never changed. Animals always needed feeding and people always needed protecting, no matter what else was on the agenda and regardless of whom was carrying out which task that day.

It was why you liked to have everybody who was physically able to rotate through the different duties every week or two, excluding the few with special skills or proven experience in certain areas who acted as duty leaders instead. Grady ran the outposts, Dylan controlled the maintenance, Lila led the scouters… but everybody else was split between roles fairly.

Some jobs were harder than others, and some required long, odd hours of labour, but not all of them involved being outside that inner wall or carried the risks that went with it and that, more than anything, was why the shift cycles had been put in place. The dead would never stop being a threat, and every single one of you had accepted that a long time ago. Staying sheltered inside without ever facing the reality of the world would only result in two things; panic, if and when Fate finally came to call, or complacency, which was twice as dangerous.

So, you’d made sure that even those who had to stay inside due to their vulnerabilities – pregnancy, disability, age, PTSD, illness – knew how to handle themselves against the dead, just in case the worst ever happened. You hadn’t lied to Negan when you’d told him your community was able to withstand herds. Dealing with the dead was just part of life now. The living were the ones that needed to be feared.

The scars you bore on the top of your left breast and hip were proof of that.

“Morning, everyone.” You ignored the anxious expressions that greeted you and unfolded the paper you managed to scrawl today’s list on before you’d finally passed out at some ungodly hour that morning. The world kept turning, regardless of fear, so you all had to, too.

You assigned out all the tasks efficiently and quickly, meeting everyone’s gaze in turn as you spoke to them, then pinned the sheet to the wall on top of the ones from earlier in the week. It was easier than trying to remember everything off by heart when it came to sorting out next week’s lists – your father’s memory had always been better than yours that way.

“I know you’ve all got a busy day ahead so take as many breaks as you need, as always, but the sooner we get this done, the better. I don’t want anybody outside that wall any longer than necessary, okay?”

When they nodded in understanding, you smiled. “Thank you.”

You didn’t look back when you turned to leave, didn’t do a single thing that was different to usual, because despite how you felt about Negan’s impending arrival, you had to keep calm. On the outside, anyway. If any of the others saw you were worried, they would worry, and then _everyone_ would start freaking out and that… well, that would probably end up being the exact moment Negan chose to show.

Long-range radio clipped to your waistband and hunting knife strapped to your thigh, you waved in thanks as the main gate was opened for you, then started to jog, building your pace steadily until you were running the length of the perimeter you seemed to constantly be expanding. Eventually, you’d have all your father’s land fenced off, but not until you had the resources to do so – every new area needed another outpost outside the boundary to guard it, and then that would require two more people to be on duty on top of the twenty-odd you already had on watch at any one time.

It was frustrating, but everything you did, now, had to be risk-assessed. The cost of those risks not paying off was human lives; other camps had failed because they’d tried to do too much, too quickly, and yours would not suffer the same fate. Not now, not ever. Not with you in charge, anyway.

Without music or a watch on to help track the time, you couldn’t judge the distance accurately, but by the time you slowed to your destination, the sun had risen and you’d done almost a full lap of the entire area, so you knew it was more than a few miles. You usually ran this way first instead of going in the opposite direction, but today you’d needed to clear your head before facing it. Otherwise, you’d have ended up staying more than the couple of minutes you’d allowed yourself before heading back.

You recited every name as you passed them. _Juliana… Samuel… Jason…_ Your steps slowed the closer you got, until you finally stopped. You knelt down to lay the flowers you’d grabbed on top of the freshly-turned earth, then reached out to touch the stone at the head of the space beside it. _Andrew… Dad._

You stayed silent for a long moment.

Regrets and apologies, tears and memories… none of them mattered anymore, because the people who deserved to hear them most were no longer able to. They were gone. Nothing you could do or say would change that.

You sighed softly, then headed back to the main gate, whistling out as you approached so they’d let you through. Inside, the morning bustle was just beginning, with those on kitchen shift beginning to prepare breakfast for the people not already out on duty. It had taken a while, but you’d eventually managed to get a schedule down based on task start times that allowed everybody to eat without overwhelming the cooks or leaving nothing for the guards coming back from the other side of the wall, and it seemed to be paying off.

After popping your head through the door to wish them a good morning, you left them to it and headed upstairs to shower before the rush hit. With the grime of the past thirty-six hours finally gone, you got dressed and ate breakfast with a clearer head, but part of you still felt on edge, even if you did manage to hide it in front of the others.

It wasn’t a nice feeling, being at someone else’s mercy again. There may not have been a gun to your head, but Negan held the power because you’d handed him it, and it was only a matter of time before he’d take advantage in some way. One way or another, he’d try to catch you off guard, just like when he’d entered the bedroom while you were changing, so you’d have to be ready to swing when he threw the ball back into your court.

You carried that uneasiness through your morning inventory check and then into your afternoon teaching session. Even as you read the children the next chapter of the book you’d chosen for them as their daily dose of normalcy, you kept waiting for something, _anything_ to happen, because you couldn’t afford not to.

It was almost a relief when static buzzed at your waistband just as Abigail had taken over teaching, signalling that _something_ finally did.

_“Blue, we got incoming.”_

You lifted the radio that connected you and the most outer treehouses to your lips, voice quiet but urgent. “What we looking at?”

_“Army truck… few miles East from the turn off.”_

The only way in that Negan knew about.

“Hold your position, Amara – there may be more to follow.” God, did you hope there weren’t. You switched to the second channel as you headed down the stairs, towards the door. “Grady, you copy?”

_“Loud and clear.”_

“Negan’s headed your way; spread the call,” you ordered, as you jogged down the front steps, trying to keep your expression neutral so the people outside didn’t panic. “Radio me as soon as they’re in sight.”

_“Wilco.”_

“Standby.” You clipped your radio back into your waistband and whistled for Lila’s attention.

As she turned to you, her face dropped, but she quickly recovered and ran over to join you as you headed towards the back of the farmhouse. “He’s here, isn’t he?”

You nodded, glancing behind you before replying, “Close enough. How far did Dylan get with the bridge?”

“We can get people out halfway towards the West gate,” she confirmed, “but if this asshole tries anything…”

“He’s not gonna get the chance to,” you assured her as you jogged to your vehicle and opened the door. Negan and his men wouldn’t make it past the outer gate until you’d checked for weapons, but even if they did have some, running would be a last resort, not the plan. “Get Natalia and Vera into the hayloft and tell Abigail to prepare the kids just in case.”

She nodded quickly, shutting the door for you as soon as you were seated.

You started the engine, vaguely aware the window was still wound down from the day before. “If the signal doesn’t sound in ten, get everyone out of here as quick as you can, okay?”

Bird calls began. Lots of them.

You cursed under your breath, then hit the gas, tires crunching over dirt as you sped towards the main gate, which was already being opened. Lila knew what to do; she didn’t need you to waste time telling her.

_“Blue, we’ve got eyes on target.”_

You grabbed the radio from your waistband. “Leather jacket, white t-shirt, stubble-beard?”

_“Front passenger.”_

Definitely Negan. “Almost there – let me through.”

You chucked the radio to the passenger seat and sped up, reaching the perimeter just as Negan’s truck slowed to a stop. You parked parallel to the gate and hopped out, jogging across the boundary as you shot Grady and Hannah a look. They dipped their chins once before securing the gate again behind you, confirming they understood. Nobody made it in until you signalled the all clear; not even you.

“So…” You tipped your head slightly to the side to watch Negan climb out the truck, Lucille immediately taking her place on his shoulder. “This is your version of showing respect, huh?”

“Damn, Blue, who the mother of fuck pissed in your fucking cornflakes this morning?” Negan smirked as he stepped forwards, usual swagger also in place. “What’s the fuck’s wrong with a good old fashioned hell-fuckin’-o?”

“What the fuck’s wrong with being the man of your word you claimed you were?” you countered, though there was no real heat to it. You weren’t exactly surprised he’d chosen to start things this way, given that you’d have done the same. If anything, you were surprised he’d given you as long as he had. He had no reason to trust you wouldn’t attack him, same way you had no reason to trust he wouldn’t attack you. “You said a few days, not twenty-four hours.”

“Aw, motherfucking Hell, Blue! You really gonna bust my fucking balls before I even get through the fucking door?” His tone feigned hurt, but his smirk widened to a grin. “Surely we’re well fucking past that shit now?”

You crossed your arms under your breasts and raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “That depends – are we really gonna pretend you haven’t come here with the intention of busting mine?”

He laughed heartily, eyes alight with mirth. He was enjoying this – part of him had reluctantly expected you to be flustered and unprepared, but the fact you weren’t proved his first instincts about you were right. And that made things a fuck-load more fun.

“What can I say, Darlin’?” His gaze lingered on your chest as it slowly tracked down your body before returning to yours. You were glad you’d changed out of your workout gear; your scar wasn’t on show for him to file away thanks to the higher cut of your tank top. “I _really_ fucking missed ya.”

You rolled your eyes and stepped forward. “I bet you did.”

Negan licked his bottom lip as you gestured for him to extend his arms out, then slowly did as you asked, holding Lucille barbed-end down. You weren’t stupid enough to think that he’d be putting the bat down any time soon, but started patting him down anyway just in case she wasn’t the only weapon he was carrying.

“Mmm, if I’d known you’d be this fucking frisky, Blue, I’d have fucking come a shit load sooner.”

“That would have been disappointing.” You crouched down, checking his legs. “I don’t like men who come too quickly.”

“Well, I’d fucking _hate_ to disappoint ya.” The smirk on his face was positively sinful. “But if you try a little higher and to the right, I’m sure you’ll be far from-”

“Nope, that’s _way_ too small to be a gun,” you deflected. It had quickly become clear during your limited time at The Sanctuary that he was fond of innuendos in general, not just with you, so while it was fun working him up by throwing them right back at him, you had to stay focused so he couldn’t use them to disarm you like he did everyone else.

You stood back up to unzip his jacket, close enough to him now that you could see the flecks of hazel in his eyes. You deliberately didn’t look away as you felt his back and sides, even when his gaze moved to your mouth and lingered. Instead, you let your hands trail slowly across his waist and partway down the V of his hipbones, fingers brushing over one of several belts he seemed to like wearing, and noted the quirk of his lips in response.

He was clear, as you’d expected.

“Satisfied?” he murmured, looking up again. Despite his attempt to hide it, you knew he wasn’t completely unaffected; he clearly wasn’t used to someone matching his advances instead of cowering from him, and part of you liked knowing you held a little power over him. It evened the playing field.

You hummed thoughtfully, letting your tongue tease your lower lip the same way he always did his own before smiling slowly. “Not yet.”

He lowered his voice and leaned towards you so his lips were by your ear. “Want me to fucking fix that?”

_Oh, this was too easy._

“Yeah, I _fucking_ do,” you breathed, turning your head so your nose brushed his cheek.

Negan smirked as he dropped his arms back to his sides, the fingers not holding Lucille brushing your hip in the process. “Bet it won’t even take _five_.”

“Hmm, I dunno… Could take longer than that.” You slowly slid your hands up his chest, waiting until your lips almost touched his before taking your winning shot. “Depends how co-operative your men are when you tell them to let me search that truck.”

With that, you patted his chest and grinned, stepping back and around him before turning your attention to the driver – the one who shot Andrew. Simon, if your memory served you correctly. “Alright, Pornstache, engine off and out the truck, please!”

You felt Negan move behind you and absently wondered if this would be it, the moment where he’d take Lucille to your head and-

“You heard the lady, Simon! We’re fucking guests here – show some fucking manners!”

You exhaled slowly, relieved. He was definitely here to play, not conquer.

For now.

“Same goes for the rest of you fucking fuckers – line the fuck up!”

His men immediately jumped to action, as you’d come to expect them to; five, excluding Simon and Negan. You’d anticipated him bringing more than that, especially if he was planning to attack, so were more than a little surprised to see the back of the truck was empty bar a few bottles of water and MREs when you checked.

“Where’s the rest of the Scooby gang?” you asked lightly as you jumped down from the truck, taking the hand Negan offered even though you didn’t need it. You shot him a glance as you passed him, patting down the first man in the line. “They get Tuesdays off or something?”

Negan laughed, genuine and soft, and watched you work your way through his men quicker than you had him since there was no need to linger. They all had a knife of some kind, but didn’t try to stop you as you gradually disarmed each of them in turn, creating a small pile of blades on top of the first. If you were honest with yourself, the fact they hadn’t brought heavier artillery was promising, but that didn’t mean you could let your guard down – more could be en-route.

You tutted as you pulled Savior-number-five’s hunting knife from its sheath, eyeing the long blade with interest before chucking it behind its owner, well out of reach. “Overcompensating, much?”

When you then removed the man’s switchblade as well, Negan whistled lowly. “You really don’t fucking trust me, do you, Blue?”

“Oh, believe me – I want to. But this?” You gestured vaguely around you as you turned to face him, keeping the line of men in your peripheral vision. “Is not my idea of a peaceful negotiation.”

When you reached Simon, he offered you his gun without being prompted and you quickly relieved the magazine of its bullets before handing it back and patting him down, too. After a couple of moments, you sighed, holding up the second magazine you’d found in his pocket that he hadn’t declared.

“Guns only have two uses: killing the living or attracting herds.” You shot Negan an irritated look as you emptied that one, too, before pocketing the bullets as well as the keys to the truck for good measure. “I’ll be keeping these for now.”

He considered you for a long moment, then smirked. “Whatever you fucking want, Doll.”

You smiled, then whistled the _all clear_ signal. “Good to know.”

The gate slowly slid open and Grady stepped through to join you, leaving Hannah behind just in case it quickly needed to be locked down again.

“Grady, these men will be waiting here while I show Negan and Simon what we have to offer.” Though your words had left no room for debate, you looked to Negan anyway. His eyebrow quirked upwards, but he didn’t argue. If anything, he looked a little impressed you’d had the balls to take advantage of what he’d said just moments before, even though being on your turf automatically implied your rules would be the ones that were followed, same way you’d followed his at The Sanctuary.

“Their weapons are behind them, but they won’t be giving you any trouble.” You turned back to Grady. “If they need anything, radio in; their keys are with me, so I’ll have someone bring whatever they require out as soon as I can.”

The Saviors weren’t going anywhere until you let them, and you’d just made sure they knew it, too.

Grady nodded in understanding. “Yes, Ma’am.”

You smiled. Addressing you as _ma’am_ instead of _Boss_ hadn’t been a mistake. It gave you the appearance of more power and respect – something Negan would pick up on straight away.

“Thank you, Grady.”

You turned to face Negan expectantly. Despite his lack of protest, you weren’t going to cross the line by assuming he’d just go along with everything you said. That would read like an attack or power play against him, and you didn’t want to deal with the consequences if that happened – it would make him want to re-establish his dominance in front of his men, most likely with Lucille. “All that good with you?”

With a grin, he closed the distance between you, swinging Lucille up onto his shoulder as he leaned in close, fingers curving over your hip like a caress. “Yes, _Ma’am.”_

You closed your eyes for half a second when his lips brushed over the outer shell of your ear, but ignored your body’s reaction and watched him swivel around to face his men, leaning back in that strange way he did. “I hear any of you fuckers have stepped a toe out of fucking line, I ain’t gonna be fucking happy and neither’s Lucille, so play nice… we’ll be back shortly.”

Negan nodded to Simon, who immediately stepped forwards, then shot you a glance that was more suggestive than it had any right to be.

“Correction: _Simon_ will be back shortly.” His hand tightened its grip on your hip, thumb unknowingly sweeping over your scar. It made the heat that had been building within you turn to ice. “Blue and I might need some time to… _hammer_ out a few details.”

You met his gaze almost defiantly, refusing to let misplaced memories sabotage you. “Best get started now, then, huh?”

Negan grinned widely. “Lead the fuckin’ way.”


	9. Baby, You Can Have It (if you say it nice)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaah!!!! Thank you so much for your amazing comments!
> 
> It means the world to me whenever you let me know your thoughts - I really appreciate them!
> 
> Hope you enjoy this one, too xx

_I’m not here to make you kneel,_

_but it’s praise that I’ll get._

_You’ll probably still adore me with my hands around your neck._

“So, _this_ is where you’ve been fucking hiding away, huh?”

You glanced sideways, where Negan was riding shotgun. It was been the first time he’d spoken during the short drive to the gate, but you’d caught the impressed look he’d shared with Simon when the solid steel had swung open as soon as you’d signalled for them to be. Your walls were a lot thicker than theirs, albeit without the addition of the dead acting as guard-dogs.

“I haven’t been hiding – I told you how to get here, remember?” you countered as you slowed on the approach. “But I wasn’t exactly gonna put a sign up giving directions so every other fucker out there could come knocking on my door as well, was I?”

“There a fuckin’ compliment in there somewhere, Blue?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Why? Ego not been stroked enough already today?”

Negan breathed out a quiet laugh, shifting his hips forward too deliberately to be casual. “Darlin’, a man’s _ego_ can never be stroked too fuckin’ much.”

“Even at your age?” you shot back, though he wasn’t exactly _old_ , then leaned out the driver’s window to whistle at the guards to lock the gate again now you’d cleared it.

“Holy God _damn_!” Negan adjusted his position so he was facing you more. “Someone’s fucking feisty today!”

“I’m just saying…” You shrugged, trying to hold back a smile. “Surely your _ego_ must find it hard to stay inflated after a while.”

“Never.” His tongue stroked across his bottom lip as he playfully lifted his eyebrows. “Wanna test that out?”

“Why would I need to?” you wondered innocently, pulling round the back of the farmhouse to park in your usual spot. You reached across the console and stroked your fingers along his thigh, then smiled sweetly as they curled around their target. “I’ll just ask one of your wives next time I visit The Sanctuary.”

You grabbed your radio from his lap and hopped out the driver’s side door, lifting the device to your lips as you did so. “Grady, we’re clear. Hold position.”

Static buzzed through the speaker as you quickly walked round to Negan’s side of the vehicle. His expression was so taken aback, it was almost comical.

Satisfaction curled in your chest; he hadn’t expected you to know about the wives. Or touch him so boldly.

“ _Copy.”_

You clipped the radio back onto your waistband and opened the front passenger door, leaning forwards so Negan had a nice view of your chest. “You coming?”

“Motherfucker,” he muttered under his breath, then shook his head and climbed out the car, not brushing up against you for once.

You smiled to yourself, taking his lack of snappy innuendo for the win it was, then leaned back through the car to grab the keys from the ignition.

“Anywhere you wanna see first?”

You glanced over your shoulder as you righted yourself and rolled your eyes. He’d been staring at your ass, as you’d expected.

Negan grinned and opened his mouth to speak, but you brought your hand up to stop him from making the suggestive comment you knew was about to pass his lips. You were enjoying having the upper hand too much to let him have his turn just yet.

“ _Outside,_ ” you clarified. It felt like scolding a naughty schoolkid. “Or should I just give you the short and sweet tour instead?”

“Long and fucking hard not an option?” Negan immediately shot back, tilting his head slightly as the corners of his mouth turned up again.

You failed to hold in a laugh; he was incorrigible, but it was almost fun handling him. “Follow me.”

Your people hadn’t completely vacated the grounds, but a lot of them were inside the farmhouse to avoid coming face to face with the new arrivals and you weren’t going to deny them that reprieve until you had to. Instead, you looped around the back of the house and headed to the barn, Negan immediately falling into step beside you.

Simon stayed a few paces back, more a silent watchman than anything else. It would have been easy to forget he was there, which was probably the point, so you made sure to keep track of his footsteps. Unlike Negan, you weren’t sure how to read him yet, but weren’t going to take any chances.

“So, this is the barn…” you began as you finally reached it, looking over your shoulder at them both.

Negan shot you an exasperated look.

“I know what a fucking barn is, Doll. Do I look like a fuckin’ idiot?”

You bit your tongue, fighting back a smile. “That question’s rhetorical, right?”

There was a pause.

And then Negan’s back arched in that graceful curve and his head tipped back.

“Fucking _fuck,_ there’s those fuckin’ beach ball-sized lady-nuts again!” He grinned. “You seriously fuckin’ _are_ gonna bust my goddamn balls for showing up too fucking early, aren’t you, Blue?”

He was flirting with your name again, and you couldn’t stop yourself returning his smile.

“That depends…” You swivelled around to face him and cocked your head slightly. “You gonna let me finish what I was saying?”

“Of course I am.” He stepped forwards so his next words were kept between the two of you; just an inch or two closer and you’d have been able to touch him. “I’ll always let you finish, Blue.”

You fought back the warmth that threatened to spread through you in response; his words had had their desired effect, but you weren’t going to let him know that. Instead, you met his gaze and let your teeth graze your bottom lip, drawing his attention down to your mouth.

“Then how about you come with me…” you murmured, then smiled slowly and tipped your head towards the barn door, “so I can give you what you came here for?”

Negan’s lips parted as his eyes flashed with something you couldn’t name. You’d gotten to him, just like you’d wanted.

But then he took a step back, swinging Lucille down and out to point her in the direction of the barn door. A silent _after you_.

You winked. “Thanks.”

You didn’t spend too long in the barn since you weren’t sure if Vera and Natalia were still hiding in the hayloft along with the others who’d encountered The Saviors before, and after a brief look around, you led the men back outside to show them the solar panels on the roof instead.

“We’ve got a few more dotted around, plus a few wells and sanitation on-site, so we’re pretty much self-contained,” you explained. Hearing Negan hum in quiet approval, you glanced up at him and noticed his lips had quirked up in a small smile. “What?”

“Nothing,” he replied lightly. “Just enjoying the tour.”

You instantly knew that was only half the truth. It wouldn’t have escaped his notice that you didn’t disclose the exact location of any water source or the remaining solar panels. There was a fine line between revealing too much and showing too little, and you’d been careful not to stray from it. The last thing you needed was for him to think you were hiding something.

So, you gave him a chance to speak up. “Any questions?”

“Nope,” he assured you, popping the ‘p’.

You smiled, though you knew full well he was probably making a mental list of every detail he could in order to interrogate you later. It didn’t bother you – you’d have done the same.

“Great – I’ll show you the farmhouse next.”

Once they’d both followed you inside, you pointed out the rec room that acted as extra sleeping space when required, then headed towards the kitchen area, raising your voice slightly so that those who were hiding inside that rec room knew where you were and could react accordingly. Whether that be by going outside or staying calmly in place, you didn’t mind, just as long as they weren’t obvious about it.

“Just to warn you… it’s a tight fit in here,” you advised as you pulled open the kitchen door, gesturing for them to go in ahead of you.

Simon didn’t hesitate to walk inside, but Negan couldn’t resist taking a moment to tease, “I’ve heard that one before.”

“And this time it’s true,” you fired back, pushing at his arm to make him move. “You’re gonna wanna stand by a wall.”

 _Tight_ was probably an understatement, since the room had been designed to feed a large family, not cater for dozens of people. The two of them stayed back as you’d requested, but you were still jostled into each other by one of the cooks on her way past you, already busy preparing dinner. Negan didn’t seem to mind though – he just used it as an excuse to press the side of his body against yours.

The feel of it was almost familiar, now. Not off-putting.

“We try to live off the land as far as possible, so our menu’s pretty basic most the time,” you explained over the noise, leaning into him slightly in return. You weren’t sure if it was what he wanted to know, but given the fact you’d almost boasted about your community’s self-sufficiency, you figured it would help prove you were telling the truth. “If there’s extra from a supply run, we’ll usually wait until there’s enough to be shared out equally since we feed people in shifts. Keeps things fair.”

The girls on kitchen duty were on their best behaviour, acting like everything was business as usual while they prepped meat and boiled pasta, even though you knew a lot of them were outright frightened by the sight of Lucille over Negan’s shoulder. You didn’t blame them; the bat was just as notorious as its owner, and the two of them combined was intimidating even from a distance.

Despite your attempts to quell their anxieties the night before, they still only saw the monster in charge of other monsters, and that probably wouldn’t be changing any time soon.

The thought prompted a worry of your own. “Your men have enough MREs in that truck to share between them?”

You hoped the answer would be yes. Feeding seven extra mouths was not something you’d expected to be doing that day, so everybody else’s rations would need to be reduced accordingly – something you always hated doing.

“They’ll be fine, don’t you fucking worry,” Negan murmured, turning his head towards you so he could catch your gaze. “I won’t say no to a fucking bite, though. I fucking _love_ eating out.”

You bit your tongue to stop yourself from making a sarcastic comment, choosing to let him have the win this time and focus on what the statement before had implied instead.

Simon wouldn’t be joining you for dinner. You were kind of relieved.

“Hettie, I’ll be having my meal upstairs today,” you called out calmly to the blonde who usually took charge of dishing out the portions. “Would you mind preparing an extra plate?”

As she raised her head, Hettie’s gaze darted to Negan before anxiously flicking back to you.

You had to fight the urge to grimace at the fear in her eyes. She struggled to be around men as it was, let alone unfamiliar ones, and having Negan in the same room was enough to make _anyone_ feel uncomfortable, especially when he seemed to take up much more space than his six-foot-whatever frame should have been able to. Lucille didn’t help, either, even though he had lowered her to his side to save space.

“I’ll be back to collect it shortly,” you quickly added, granting Hettie the reprieve she so clearly needed. You’d never have asked her to bring the plates up to you, even if she hadn’t looked at you that way. You’d taken her off the list of outside duties and permanently assigned her to the kitchen for a reason; she still woke up screaming sometimes, and you didn’t want to make things worse.

You knew exactly what she saw whenever she closed her eyes at night.

Him.

“O-Of course,” she stammered, nodding jerkily. You smiled reassuringly at her, then turned to Negan and gestured for him to follow you back out the kitchen so she and the rest of the girls on duty could work in peace.

As you led them back across the lower floor, Simon muttered something to Negan that sounded a lot like ‘ _points’_ , but you couldn’t hear clearly enough to understand the context. It was the first time Simon had spoken thus far, so whatever it was clearly held some significance despite Negan merely nodding in response.

Refusing to let yourself get distracted, you walked up to the doors that led to the med-bay and raised a fist, knocking loudly to make sure nobody was inside. When no sound came in answer, you carefully pushed the doors open but made no move to step inside.

Instead, you smiled proudly and kept your tone light. You didn’t want Negan to know how low you were running on medical supplies; it would weaken your position.

“This is our infirmary…” The beds and limited medical equipment made it impossible to mistake it for anything else, but Negan chose not to comment, too busy looking at what he could from his place beside you. “Staff are on call twenty-four hours a day, just in case we need them, and then over here…”

As you turned to move on to the dining area, Negan caught you by the arm and pulled you back in towards him. Your hands pushed against his chest for balance, but the heat in his gaze was enough to make you still feel unsteady.

“It’s fucking empty.”

You blinked dumbly, not understanding what the problem was. “We minimize the time they spend in here to avoid cross-contamination… Saves having to re-sanitize everything unnecessarily.”

Negan clenched his jaw, fingers flexing against your bicep.  “That’s not what I fuckin’ meant, Doll.”

It took a few seconds for his meaning to sink in, and when it finally did, a lump immediately lodged itself in your throat. “Oh.”

Your eyes burned with the urge to seek out the space in the middle of the infirmary that still smelt faintly of bleach, but you schooled your face into a neutral expression and pushed the sudden wave of emotion back down again, determinedly keeping your gaze away from Simon.

He may have only shot Andrew because of Francis, but that didn’t make it any easier to answer Negan’s silent question when identical bullets to the one fired were jingling in your pockets.

“He didn’t make it.”

Negan loosened his grip on your arm, looking almost regretful. “Fucking Hell, Blue…”

“Yeah.” Your fingers curled slightly against the fabric of his white t-shirt. “You might wanna keep that miserable asshole out the way next time I visit.”

You took a steadying breath, then dropped your hands from his chest and smiled. Back to business.

“Come on – dining area’s this way.”

Once Negan and Simon had seen the lower floor, you headed upstairs, pointing out the bedrooms as you passed them without wasting time by taking the men inside each one. This was about proving yourself, not playing show and tell, and there were more important areas for them to see on the top floor, since most your business would be conducted there.

“Up here, you’ve got some more storage spaces, a bathroom, my bedroom…” You gestured to each door in turn, noticing how Negan’s eyebrow quirked at the mention of the last one. “Don’t even think about it.”

Negan twirled Lucille up onto his shoulder and grinned. “Too late.”

You shook your head, a breathy laugh escaping you. “Of course it is.”

“What’s this room at the end?”

You turned to Simon, surprised he’d interrupted.

“That would be my office,” you replied, taking a step towards the far end of the hall, away from the stairs. “So if you’re-”

“No.” He pointed in the opposite direction. “I meant this one.”

Your stomach dropped. Nobody ever so much as glanced at that door anymore. Not even you.

“That’s…” You swallowed thickly. Words refused to dislodge from your chest. “Uh…”

Simon moved to step forwards, but you instinctively cut in front of him, blocking the door.

That piqued Negan’s interest.

“You hiding something from me, Doll?”

You clenched your jaw and tried not to flinch under his gaze. “No, but-”

“Then what’s the problem?” Simon countered, raising an eyebrow.

Your chest tightened painfully as you tried to force yourself to remain calm.

“The room’s unallocated at the moment,” you told them truthfully, but when Negan’s expression darkened, you knew that wouldn’t be enough.

Nausea burned its way through your stomach.

Your heart pounded.

There was no way out of this, now.

“You can take a look if you want?”

Negan grinned, looking like the cat that had gotten its canary as he gestured for you to lead the way.

It took a second for your body to process the movement, but you somehow managed to smile politely.

“Ladies first - I remember.”

You turned and took a shaky step towards the one door you’d never wanted to open again.

Then another.

Your knees threatened to buckle beneath you.

Negan’s hand curled under your elbow and his lips brushed against your ear. “Why so nervous all of a sudden?”

 _Why so nervous, baby? You came to_ me _, remember? I won’t hurt ya… much._

You cleared your throat and fought back the shudder that vibrated up your spine.

“I’m not nervous,” you ground out, pulling your arm free from his hold as you forced your feet to start moving again. Your hand trembled as it closed around the handle. “I just don’t get why you’d think I’m playing games.”

You gritted your teeth and pushed open the door.

“It’s just an old bedroom.”

Negan chuckled quietly. His sudden closeness made you flinch. “I can see that.”

The room looked exactly the same as it had last time you’d been in there.

Nobody had touched the space in months.

You managed to move to the side so the men could pass, but knew if you so much as tried to cross the threshold any further, you wouldn’t be able to stop your feet from immediately taking you in the opposite direction. Some instincts were impossible to override.

Negan stepped inside, followed quickly by Simon, and despite the distance you’d granted yourself, the space suddenly seemed too small. Suffocating. You could barely even watch as they explored it.

“This bed as comfy as it looks?”

It took you a moment to process who the voice belonged to, let alone understand the question.

“Uh…”

The sight of Simon’s hand curling around one of the wooden posts that extended up from each corner of the bedframe sent acid bubbling up from your stomach and into your throat.

You swallowed back the nausea, fingers tightening around the door handle reflexively. “Probably.”

He sat down at the foot of the bed and bounced slightly, humming in approval.

“Pretty big, too.” He looked to you expectantly, and a confused expression passed over his face when he realized you still hadn’t fully crossed the threshold to join them.

Your feet didn’t budge. They couldn’t.

“Mmm,” was the only sound you could make at first, but when his brow furrowed further, you forced your jaw to unclench and exhaled slowly to calm yourself.

_Get it together._

“Like I said, we haven’t allocated the area for anything at the moment,” you managed to get out. Your gaze shifted to Negan’s chest. His jacket was still unzipped. “Your men would be welcome to use it, if you choose to accept my proposal.”

It was a thoughtless idea, more a distraction for yourself than an actual suggestion, but when Simon and Negan shared an impressed look, you were suddenly glad your brain had spat it out. Nobody else would be sleeping in that room, no matter how desperate things got; the only reason its contents hadn’t been burned was that everybody else had the same difficultly getting through the door you did.

“Forward thinking.” Negan smirked, boots swivelling smoothly against the carpet as he turned to face you and winked. “I like it.”

You forced a smile and tried to ignore the crawling sensation that became more determined to smother your entire body the longer you stayed frozen in the doorway.

“The door has an internal lock for, uh-” You cleared your throat, glancing down at the floor as you suppressed the memory. “For privacy.”

You lifted your head again. Breaking down was not an option. Your people were counting on you.

“There’s also an en-suite through there,” you continued, stronger this time, “so you’d have everything you needed.”

Negan frowned and tilted his head, eyes tightening slightly. You hadn’t been able to hold his gaze for more than a few seconds.

“Seems like a waste to not be using a space as big as this full time,” Simon probed, shooting a look at Negan, whose eyes remained fixed on you even as you turned away from him. “Especially when you’ve got lots of people bunking in the same rooms downstairs.”

You shrugged as noncommittally as you could. “They prefer to sleep in groups.”

_Terrified screams... Grabbing hands…_

Flocks were safer than being the lone sheep.

You’d been the latter.

“Then why not move one of those groups up here?” Simon countered as he leaned back, propping himself up with his hands on the mattress behind him. The familiarity of that position made every muscle in your body tense.

Your gaze flitted to the carpet in front of him that had repeatedly rubbed your knees raw… to the posts near the top of the bed that had gouges in the wood from their near-constant use as anchors for restraints… to the sheets that covered the mattress you’d spent so many nights being pinned dow-

You unclenched your fist from around the door handle before you could accidentally snap it off in your white-knuckled grip. “They’re settled, now.”

He kept pushing. “They’d have more space…”

“They don’t need it.”

And pushing. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why don’t they-”

_Thudding boots. Hair pulled. Clothes torn…_

Your next words came out as a harsh growl. “Nobody wants to be in here!”

When Simon’s eyebrows shot up, you tensed, instantly regretting your outburst.

Negan stepped forwards, lowering Lucille from his shoulder. His face was thunderous.

_You’d finally crossed the line._


	10. How Did I Get Here (sitting next to you)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck me, I'm actually a little lost for words this time!
> 
> Your comments on the last chapter honestly left me speechless in the best way and I am so grateful to every single one of you for the feedback. You have no idea how much it means to me, and I say that genuinely.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this one just as much, but will warn you now - there are a few little flashes (non-graphic) at the start. There's also a snippet of comic!Negan in here, which some of you might catch!
> 
> Oh, look. Guess I wasn't that lost for words after all! Oh well.
> 
> Let me know your thoughts! x

_Please don’t make any sudden moves._

_You don’t know the half of the abuse._

Your palms clammed up.

_Step._

Your lungs seized.

_Step._

The too-familiar metallic taste of blood made your stomach churn violently.

_Step._

Lucille swayed into your line of sight, barbs down towards booted feet.

You couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t-

Gloved fingers pressed under your chin, tilting your face up.

Expression dark. Brow furrowed. Mouth in a tight line.

You couldn’t meet his gaze.

“Apologize.”

A whimper caught in your throat. _He was pissed._

“N-Negan, I-”

His thumb grazed across your bottom lip. “Not you.”

Your eyes finally found his.

“I’m sorry.” Simon’s voice made you startle, and Negan’s eyes tightened. He’d felt you flinch. “That was inappropriate.”

“I-It’s okay…” You were so thrown, it came out like a question.

“No, it’s fucking not.” Negan let out a frustrated breath as his gaze flitted down to your lip. “Fuck.”

The leather over his thumb was marred with red when he pulled it back. You hadn’t even realized you’d bitten your lip that hard.

“Simon, fucking stand the fuck up,” he sighed, shooting him a dark look. “This ain’t fuckin’ Mattress Outlet. We ain’t here to fuckin’ question where people fuckin’ sleep.”

He took a step back, and suddenly you could breathe again.

 _Oh,_ fuck.

You glanced down at the floor and blinked back the tears that had gathered in your eyes.

_Come on, keep it together._

“Blue.”

You cleared your throat and looked up, composing yourself best you could. “Yes?”

“You mind giving us a minute?” Negan’s tone hadn’t lost its hard edge, but it was a request, not an order. “I think we’ve seen enough.”

“Sure,” you managed to agree, almost sagging with relief despite not knowing if _enough_ was a good or bad thing. You couldn’t stand to be in that room a moment longer. “I’ll be in my office.”

His eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them. “Other end of the fucking hall?”

“Yeah, I'll just...” _Run. Hide._ “Wait there.”

He nodded, and you took that as your cue, smiling politely before turning and hurrying down that fucking hall. You could barely stop yourself from breaking into a run with the need to _get out._

_Get out and never go back._

The office door swung shut behind you as you stumbled inside, bracing yourself against your desk to counter the sudden weakness in your legs. You’d been so sure, so resigned… but now, while you were grateful Negan had spared you, without him in front of you to focus on, the images that flashed through your mind were impossible to ignore. And that made you wish he hadn’t. Lucille would have been less brutal.

_Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God._

You whined low in your throat and scrambled round the other side of the desk to sit down and put your head between your knees. Your breaths came out as desperate pants. Short. Harsh. Your skin was _crawling_ , ten sizes too small, and then _it_ started.

_No. No, no. Not again._

You wrapped your arms around yourself and squeezed.

“You’re okay. You’re okay,” you whispered. Just like your father used to when you were a kid. Only, then your nightmares were abstract, when sleeping, but now…

You shuddered violently.

You were past this. It was over. You were free.

But His hands were on you, _wrists, ankles, thighs, neck_ , and you felt anything but _free_.

“It’s not real.” You gritted your teeth and shook your head. _Get out, get out, get out._ “He’s gone.”

Except He wasn’t. Not really. His presence had never left; you’d just banished it to one room and tried to pretend it didn’t exist. But _it_ hadn’t forgotten about _you_.

_You’ll always be mine, won’t you?_

Your hip _burned_. Deep. Agonizing.

 _You feel that, Baby? You’re giving everything to me and I’m taking it right…_ now _._

You growled. “No, no, no, no, _no...._ ”

 _Look at_ that _… ain’t that perfect? You see how good you look? Such a tight little thing, wrapped around m-_

You pushed yourself upright, swallowing down the bile and acid that threatened to escape, and scrubbed your hands over your skin in place of His.

It wasn’t real. That girl didn’t exist anymore.

Neither did He.

You stood up and walked over to the window, grabbing the bottle of scotch on your way past.

_Strained laughter. Covered Panic._

_Baby, you asked me to do all that, remember? You wanted it. So what you gonna do now, huh? You don’t have the guts to-_

_Red._

The burn from the scotch made you shudder. It was somehow worse straight from the bottle.

The physical distraction gave you a chance to focus. Look out the window. See the present.

The farmhands were back from duty.

Dylan was sawing planks in the yard.

Blood wasn’t staining the dirt.

Harper was talking to Wendy as they took the laundry off the line.

Someone was laughing. Happy.

This wasn’t about who you used to be. Hell, it wasn’t about _you_ at all.

It was about _them._ Protecting _them._

That was all any of it had ever been about. What it was all _for_.

You wiped your face, under your eyes, your cheeks… and _breathed._

“You’re not her.”

The crawling stopped.

Your mind cleared.

His touch faded away.

“He’s not Him.”

You let out a long, slow exhale, then opened your eyes.

_You could do this._

“Knock-knock.”

You smiled to yourself and turned to face the door. “It’s unlocked.”

After a moment, Negan carefully pushed it open and stepped across the threshold. His face was calmer now. Less menacing.

If it had ever been that way in the first place. You were no longer sure.

“That was quick,” you noted, making your way back to the desk. Your legs were steadier, now. “Want a drink?”

He tracked your movements with his eyes, and the intense look in them made you self-conscious. Like he was examining you. Searching for something.

You talked to fill the silence, keep yourself focused. Familiarity always helped in these first few minutes _after_.

“It’s not as good as yours, not by a long shot, but still…” You poured the scotch into glasses this time. One for you, one for Negan. “It does the job.”

You turned to face him and swallowed thickly when you noticed he hadn’t moved from the doorway. Distance wasn’t something he usually specialized in; you didn’t like that he was suddenly giving you some.

“You can come in, you know,” you assured him lightly. _Please._ “I won’t bite.”

His footsteps were soft as they approached, but you found yourself tensing slightly anyway. You couldn’t help it. Same way you couldn’t stop your hand trembling at the sight of Lucille by his side.

_He’s not Him._

“Don’t do that.” You looked up from Lucille, surprised by the softness in Negan’s voice. It sounded strange, coming from his lips. “You’re a fucking _badass,_ Blue. You shouldn’t be fucking scared of anyone or _any_ -fuckin’-thing.”

The sound of your name – your _new_ name – made the remaining tension inside you deflate like a balloon. _That_ was what you needed.

You stepped forward, holding both your glass and his in your hands. They didn’t tremble. “I'm not scared of you, Negan.”

He didn’t take the glass straight away. Instead, he stared at you again, long and hard, but this time, you were able to hold his gaze. His proximity calmed you, made you focus. _Familiarity._

“No.” He sounded almost proud. “You’re fucking not, are you?”

You smiled. You’d take that as the compliment it was. “Where’s Simon?”

“Fuckin’ put him in a goddamn time out.” He smirked, and you laughed softly, lifting your glass to your lips. He still didn’t move to take his.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“He was being a fuckin’ asshole,” he pointed out as you took a sip of the amber liquid. “You didn’t deserve that.”

You shrugged, looking down at his chest. He _still_ hadn’t done up his jacket after you’d unzipped it. “I’ve had worse.”

It was meant to be a light-hearted comment, a brush off, a dismissal, but the feel of Negan’s thumb brushing over your bottom lip again turned it into anything but. The digit was bare this time.

“I know.”

You met his gaze again, breath catching in your throat at the look in his eyes.

No pity. No calculating. No victory.

Understanding.

You weren’t sure how to take that.

“Yeah, well…” He let his hand drop again. You almost missed the touch. “We’ve all got shit to get over.”

Negan shook his head disbelievingly. Or maybe it was awe.

“What?” You tipped your head to the side as you spoke. Not challenging, just curious. “You haven’t seen shit you wish you hadn’t? Made mistakes? Lost someone?”

His jaw clenched at the last part. _Of course._

You smiled sadly.

“Like I said…” You pressed his glass into his hand. His fingers finally closed around it. “We’ve all got something.”

“Blue?”

You released the glass, brushing your fingertips over Negan’s knuckles as you stepped back and to the side so you could see the door.

The look on Lila’s face made you frown. “Everything okay?”

You reached down to check your radio was still on. It was.

“No noise. Just food.” Lila lifted the plates she’d obviously brought up for you and Negan as an excuse to check on things, but made no move to step forward. “Your father’s bedroom door is open.”

Her gaze flicked to Negan, then back to you. A silent question _._

“I was showing our guests where they’ll be able to stay,” you explained. _I’m okay._

“Of course.” Lila walked forwards to place the plates on your desk, making sure to avoid getting too close to Negan. “Sure you don’t need another plate?”

“Simon’s just about to fucking leave,” Negan replied, then deferred to you, not wanting to overstep his mark. Just like you’d done when dealing with his people. “That okay with you, Doll?”

“Sure,” you agreed, probably sounding a little too eager. Simon being gone would help restore the balance. “Lila, would you mind escorting him to the East perimeter gate?”

She shot you a look. _You got this?_

You dipped your chin.

The exchange took less than a second.

She smiled. “No problem.”

“Thank you, _Lila_ ,” Negan murmured, drawing your attention back to him. “I’m Negan, by the way.”

“I know.” The eyeroll was invisible, but audible. “Your guy down the hall?”

An amused smile teased the corners of his mouth. “Yep.”

“Great.” Negan’s smile widened at the hint of sarcasm in Lila’s voice; the two of you were definitely giving him more sass than he was used to. You were strangely proud of that. “Excuse me.”

She didn’t spare Negan another glance, just squeezed your arm before heading down the hallway to fetch Simon and letting the door close behind her. She trusted you to handle things with Negan; she’d handle everything else in the meantime. She always did.

“She doesn’t like me very fuckin’ much, does she?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You say that like most people immediately want to be friends with you.”

Negan grinned devilishly, tipping back some of his drink.

“You hungry?” you wondered as you moved towards him again, gesturing to the plates of spaghetti Lila had brought up.

He swivelled backwards as you passed and leaned slightly to the side so his lips were by your ear. His voice came out as a low growl. “ _Starving._ ”

The corner of your mouth quirked up into a half-smile. _Back to normal. Good._

“You have quite the appetite, don’t you, Negan?” The words came out more flirtatious than you’d intended, but when he chuckled under his breath, you decided to just roll with it. “Wanna do it here or on the couch?”

There was a brief pause, like he was weighing up his next words carefully. Probably figuring out the best innuendo to make. He sank his teeth into his bottom lip for half a second, then soothed it with the tip of his tongue.

“Couch is good,” he eventually decided, then tucked Lucille under his arm to take the plate you offered him without having to put his glass down first.

You stared at him for a moment, surprised he hadn’t gone for a euphemism after all. “Wow.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” You shrugged as you led him over to the couch that sat against the wall furthest from the door. “Just surprised you didn’t reach out and grab that one. You _must_ be hungry.”

When you sat on the end cushion, you expected him to sit on the one right beside you, but instead he placed his glass on the side table and gently propped Lucille against the side of the couch before sitting at the opposite end. Again with the distance.

“I have my fucking hands full already,” he deflected, “and this shit smells fucking delicious.”

You didn’t quite buy his explanation, but weren’t going to bother questioning it either. He seemed to have given you the upper hand again, even if only for a short while, and you‘d never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Tuck in,” you encouraged instead, placing your glass down on the side table to your left.

“Don’t mind if I fuckin’ do.” Negan twirled some of the spaghetti and sauce around his fork, then lifted it to his lips and groaned softly. “Holy fuckin’ shit.”

You smiled, pushing the pasta around your plate before eating a small mouthful yourself. Your appetite had all but disappeared for reasons you didn’t want to think about, but you had to force the food down regardless. You couldn’t afford to waste it. “Fresh herbs make a huge difference, right?”

“Mmm,” Negan agreed, then ate another forkful, eyes closing in satisfaction at the flavor. “You’re gonna need to get Hettie to fucking write that shit down, ‘cause mother _fuck._ This is something _else._ ”

“No need to ask her for it,” you told him, covering your surprise at the fact he’d remembered Hettie’s name. “It’s my recipe.”

“Well, holy goddamn, she’s got brains, looks, _and_ she can fuckin’ cook!” Negan grinned slowly, his eyes alight with something that made you have to bite back your own smile. “My favourite kinda girl.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up and eat your damn spaghetti.”

Negan winked, and damn it, his charm was close to fucking working.

“Yes, _Ma’am._ ”

Your appetite slowly started to return.

He finished his plate quicker than you expected, mainly due to the fact he’d actually done as you’d asked for once instead of filling the quiet with constant chatter, but the look in his eyes as he twisted to face you was enough to make you wish he’d ignored that order. It was question time.

You let out a soft sigh, twirling the cooling spaghetti around your own fork, much like he’d done. “Yes, Negan?”

“I didn’t say a fuckin’ word,” he teased as he extended his arm across the back of the couch towards you.

“You were about to,” you countered, shooting him a pointed look. “So go ahead – ask whatever you gotta ask.”

Since you knew it would be your last mouthful, you ate the forkful of spaghetti slowly as you waited for him to speak, savouring the taste. It was a particularly good batch, if you dared say so yourself.

“You don’t have a points system,” he finally opened with as you wiped the corner of your mouth with your thumb. “Why the fuck not?”

_So that’s what Simon had murmured._

You huffed out a laugh, then lowered your plate to the floor like he had done with his and grabbed your glass before turning in your seat and curling your legs under you. “Why the fuck do you _have_ one?”

“Rules keep us alive,” he said simply, gesturing vaguely with his free hand. “Stupid fucks who don’t wanna follow those fuckin’ rules don’t get _shit_ , but those who do? They get points. The system keeps things fuckin’ fair. Which is why I don’t get why you don’t seem to fuckin’ have one.”

“Define fair,” you countered, slowly sipping from your glass. “Because I know for a fact your Saviors are above the points system by default. That seems a little _un_ fair to me.”

Negan raised an eyebrow. “ _Unfair?_ My Saviors work their fucking asses off.”

“And the people on the lower rungs don’t?”

You had him there, and you both knew it.

“To answer your question… the way I see it? The most anyone can give is everything they have,” you continued as he drank from his own glass, eyeing you curiously. “Some find hunting for supplies easy and are able to give more on top to boot. But others? For them, even going outside the house can be a struggle. Hanging up the laundry to dry _is_ their everything.”

“So why reward them? Why give those weak-ass people – who’d die on their fucking own, and you know it – the same privileges as the ones who aren’t spineless fucks and have to do the tough shit for them?” Negan tipped his head to the side. “It don’t make any fucking sense, Doll.”

“Having food and shelter isn’t a _privilege,_ Negan. It’s a basic human right.” You shook your head in disbelief. _Surely he had to see that?_ “But if those ‘ _spineless fucks’_ weren’t there to do the dirty work? The others would be up shit creek without a paddle. The ‘weak-ass’ ones” – _fuck, that phrase made you angry_ – “complete the puzzle and keep things running smoothly. If any pieces go missing, none of it works, so why would I bother allocating meaningless points out so they can ‘buy’ the bare minimum they need when the cost of every single one of them _not_ having that is our survival and that’s already incentive enough for them? It wouldn’t make any fucking sense.”

“The points aren’t _meaningless_ ,” he argued, but there was no real heat behind it. “Everyone at The Sanctuary gets the ‘minimum’, as long as they fuckin’ work for it. It ain’t exactly hard to earn enough for food - they just gotta fuckin’ show up for their jobs, same as yours do. And if they put a little effort in, they’ll earn enough for a few extras as long as they’re sensible.”

“What, like medication they need to survive?” you pushed. This was where you knew the two of you differed. Here, the few people with life-threatening medical conditions were given the necessary medication equally whenever it was available, but there… “They’d have to use those extra points to pay for the meds instead of luxuries, right?”

“Of course they fucking would,” he scoffed, starting to sound a little irritated now you were daring to turn the tables back on him. He should have realized you weren’t just going to give without taking in return. You knew each other better than that by now. “I ain’t sure if you’ve noticed, Doll, but pharmacies ain’t gonna fuckin’ restock any time soon. Some shit is hard to come by.”

“Oh, I fucking know that,” you assured him. Andrew’s death was probably due to that problem, at least in part. “But how is it fair to punish them for needing that medication while your Saviors get to help themselves to whatever they want, just because?”

“I don’t fucking _punish_ people for needing medication,” he growled. “I’m not a fucking animal! They just have to work a little harder to earn the points.”

“But what if the price is too high and they don’t have enough points for both food and their medication? They’d have to choose between starving themselves or suffering because of their condition, wouldn’t they?” you pointed out. “How is that _not_ punishment?”

His brow furrowed.

“And what about tampons? Pads? Menstrual cups?” you carried on. You were on a roll now; you’d had this discussion many a time. “ _They’re_ not that hard to come by, but I bet they still need to be paid for with points as well. They’re an extra, right?”

“Someone still has to go and fucking get all that shit,” he reminded you, but again, it wasn’t an argument, just an observation. He was _listening._ “Why shouldn’t it be fucking paid for?”

“They’re part of the bare minimum, Negan!” You downed the rest of your drink before standing up and moving to the desk for a refill. You were going to need one, at this rate. “Women _need_ them. So unless you give those women free points every month, making them have to potentially give up a meal or put in a few more hours than the men on the same team to save themselves from bleeding over the clothes they would probably then have to pay even _mor_ e points to get cleaned afterwards is _punishing_ them!”

You turned to face him and rested your hip against the side of the desk.

“I’m not saying everyone should have whatever they want without putting something in in return, but surviving in this new world is already hard enough – why make it any worse?” You looked down at your glass, tapping your fingers against the side of it. “All you can ask someone for is their everything, and if they’re willing to give you that – regardless of how little _that_ may seem to be – I don’t think giving them everything I can in return is a ‘reward’; it’s the least they deserve.”

The soft thud of Negan’s footsteps made you lift your head again, and your eyes automatically sought his out as he slowly approached. The swagger was gone, as was Lucille.

“You think the way I fucking run things is wrong,” he surmised, voice less hard than you’d expected, as if he was intrigued rather than offended.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying at all.” You shook your head, more a little frustrated. He’d missed the point slightly. “I don’t know your people or what they’re like. If you think your system is fair, then so be it. It’s not my place to tell you how to run your community. But I do know _my_ people. And I think _your_ assessment of _them_ is wrong.”

“What fuckin’ assessment?” he murmured. He was directly in front of you now, mirroring your position against the desk, but you knew he wasn’t trying to intimidate you. He was _matching_ you.

“You said the ones who can’t go outside are weak,” you reminded him softly. “But they’re not. They still _try,_ Negan. They get out of bed and do whatever they can to keep on living, even if it’s just wash clothes or cook meals. They _want_ to survive this thing, and they fight for it with _everything_ they’ve got.” You held his gaze; chin up, expression steady. “So fuck you for thinking any of them are spineless. I’d like to see your Saviors do better if they’d gone through what we have.”

You lowered yourself back down to the flats of your feet, unsure when you’d even risen up on your tiptoes, and let yourself sway back so you weren't so in his face anymore.

He stared at you for the longest time. Face unreadable. Eyes piercing.

But then he spoke, and it threw you for a complete loop.

“You actually fucking meant it.”

You frowned, running through everything you’d just said to try to pinpoint what he was referring to.

You couldn’t.

“Meant what?”

“All of it.”

_What?_

“There’s a lot of lying motherfucking assholes in his world, Blue, but you… you’re not one of them.” He placed his still partly-full glass on the desk beside yours, fingers lingering on the wooden surface. “You actually _want_ us to work together.”

_Oh._

You shrugged. “I wouldn’t have invited you here if I was trying to play you.”

He considered that, then sighed, a tired expression crossing his face for just the smallest of moments.

“No,” he agreed. “You wouldn’t’ve.”

“Why does any of that surprise you?” you wondered, though you could probably guess why. “I told you my intentions from the start.”

“I know you fucking did,” he admitted. “But every other fucker out there either works for me or against me. Never _with_.”

You smiled a little bitterly. “That’s because you’re their monster.”

“I know.” He looked down to where your hand was resting just a few inches from his, and when he next spoke, his voice was lower than before. “But nobody ever fucking came to _my_ door first – they just cowered in fear. From me _and_ the dead. It’s easy to bash a man’s skull in when the only way to save his friends is to trick them into living by making them _work_.”

And there it was.

The second side; the man instead of the monster.

_The truth._

You could work with that.

“What if his friends don’t need saving?”

He met your gaze again and his fingers brushed yours as he picked up his glass once more, sending heat prickling across your skin.

“We’re gonna have to work that shit out together, aren’t we, Blue?”

_Pride… Relief… Power…_

You'd done it.

“Yeah.” You smiled, slow and genuine. “I guess we are.”


	11. Sins I Would Repeat (and i repeat)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, loves!
> 
> I'm so sorry about the delay with this - life has been so hectic as I'm moving home and changing jobs in just over a week, and coupled with a flare up of my anxiety and an old spinal disc injury playing up, I've not been able to have any time to myself to properly write for weeks!
> 
> I went back and read through all your amazing comments after a major anxiety attack yesterday and they inspired me to get back on it, so thank you.
> 
> I hope this one was worth the wait xx

_I’m a machine when I do it._

_I’ll be catching fire, gasoline when I do it._

_Just ‘cause you’re packing, packing, whoop, down South,_

_That don’t mean I’m ever gonna take it lying down, Baby._

_Working shit out_ was easier that you’d let yourself imagine.

You’d underestimated Negan, but for once it looked like that was a good thing.

Once you got past the charm and the constant flirting, he turned out to be one Hell of a lot smarter, more reasonable, and overall _better_ than that goddamn shield he put up to disarm everyone led you to first believe. He was still an absolute asshole, there was no denying that, but the more you talked, the more it seemed that maybe he had a reason to be.

His people _had_ to be hammered and bent into shape through fear and raw power, because ‘pussying around’, as he put it, would only get them killed, and although you were in no position to agree or disagree with him on that, from what he’d let slip about some of the messes his people had gotten themselves into when left to their own devices, you knew it was probably true.

As far as the people in the other communities he ‘owned’ were concerned, you’d always differ on his treatment of them and he seemed to know that, for he chose not to bring them up even once, and you were grateful. You didn’t need the reminder of what he could and would do to your people if this went wrong, and arguing over his almost-barbaric actions while trying to forge a bridge between the two of you to avoid that very same thing would be like kicking a hornet’s nest, and you didn’t want to get stung.

So, you stuck to safer topics, navigating through all the innuendos and his penchant for saying your name like an addiction until you found yourself deep in conversation about things you’d never expected to be talking about with _anybody_ nowadays, let alone somebody like Negan.

Were speed limits still worth obeying?

Was Costco really much different to how it used to be? Or was the only change that the staff actually _were_ undead now, instead of just appearing to be?

Which variation of the word _fuck_ was most effective? Did Hell even count as a curse word anymore?

What type of take-out food would you order if you could, one last time?

And then, after you both relaxed with another glass of drink, came the tougher stuff; the nitty gritty that you’d wanted to get into but hadn’t known how, only for the conversation to shift anyway, laced in between the lighter chit-chat that seemed to flow between you with ease.

Herds were a key topic because, Hell, how couldn’t they be? They were why the human race had been reduced to tiny pockets, and would never be fully safe. They were why you were even in a position where making a deal with a Devil (though you were no longer sure that was a fair judgement, or maybe that was the scotch talking) was the only way to survive. Funny, how the species at the top of the evolutionary scale could be brought to its knees like that.

But that was a thought trail for another day.

For now, just knowing _where_ those herds roamed would be enough. Anyone with a brain was aware of the locations of some of the biggest groups as a matter of necessity, but the distance between your communities meant that some of the smaller herds were too far out of scope for the other to have known about, which was a bit of an eye-opener for you both. After pulling out the map you used to highlight hot-zones, you pointed out a couple that dominated an area to the West and threw in the locations of a couple of spent supply-hoards for good measure, while Negan warned you about a few of his own and pointed out the remnants of a large group to the South you hadn’t come across yet.

A quick study of the map together led you to believe the Southern herd was an offshoot of a particularly nasty group that had passed through the area several weeks back, so you knew it would be something you’d need to keep a close eye on even though miles of fields were between the inner camp and their current location. While Negan’s use of the dead around his boundary was a bit too gruesome for your tastes, the idea of using spikes as a defence tactic was a smart one, and implementing something similar would be a valuable asset even if that group didn’t migrate any further North.

You’d never admit that to him, though, just like neither one of you would ever give up any of the potential _un-_ raided areas you both knew the other had up their sleeves. This was a business partnership, not a marriage; despite the growing kinship between you, some cards would always remain close to your chests, and the location of valuable resources was one of them.

That didn’t mean the existence of those cards went unnoticed, though. Your maps may have given nothing away since those areas were always left unmarked, but the slight smile on Negan’s lips and the wink he gave you as he studied the expanse of lines and block colours across the paper as good as confirmed he had a similar method back at The Sanctuary to hide his own treasures.

Still, he didn’t comment on it, and you didn’t pry. Quid pro quo, just like you’d promised.

Hell, that phrase summed things up better than anything else.

This for that.

Something for something.

Mutual privacy and respect in some things, for mutual honesty and openness in others.

And, against all the odds, it was working.

You weren’t sure exactly when it happened, but somewhere between that initial discussion over points and a debate about whether fast runners or broad muscle were best for supply hauls, a silent understanding was established between you and Negan; neither he nor his men would be staying overnight.

It was a relief, to be granted some space without having to ask for it after being so close to someone for so long – even if it had been Lila standing shoulder to shoulder with you as you poured over those maps together and not Negan, you’d still have been exhausted from fighting your body’s instinct to tense or recoil – but the cost of that space was your discussion ending before you wanted it to, and somehow that was just as draining, albeit mentally rather than physically.

It felt like a step back, to come so far only to hit the brakes halfway up the hill, but this was always going to be a marathon, not a sprint, so you’d take whatever progress you managed to make and count it as a huge win.

Somehow, you doubted anybody else had ever managed to get as much out of Negan as you had in such a short space of time. Call it false, call it a test, whatever the Hell came to mind, but the fact of the matter was that against all the odds, he let you see past the smoke and mirrors for a short while and you’d have been a fool not to have grabbed the opportunity with both hands.

He disclosed a little information about the current set-up at The Sanctuary, including the small garden they were struggling to grow, so you confirmed the likely numbers of your people who would need training. He spoke of his difficulties supplying his outposts, so you mentioned your lack of resources when it came to expanding your perimeter. Problems and issues, tit for tat.

It may have been a necessary evil, exposing those slight weaknesses to each other, but it didn’t _feel_ that way. If anything, it felt genuine. A show of trust and respect. And that thought was enough to make your pace falter as you escorted Negan back down through the farmhouse towards your vehicle once the sun started to set.

Trust.

You’d thought you’d run out of that. That there was nothing more in you to give as far as faith and belief went. Your people had it all, because they’d earned it, and yet…

There it was. A tiny seedling, with delicate roots and an even more fragile core, barely beginning to grow between you.

You weren’t an idiot – that thing would die the moment a booted foot so much as nudged it – but beneath all the charm and the jokes, the flirting and the tension, you were starting to understand him, and with that understanding came a sense of comfort. You knew where the lines were now and, more importantly, how to read between them.

He was still the King of his castle and you were the Queen of yours, though. Neither one of you would be abdicating any time soon, and so the games would continue. Every detail was filed away just in case, and if you made your next few moves carefully, you’d end up with a substantial war chest that could be used however was necessary.

You weren’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse.

The fact you _could_ use it didn’t mean you wanted to have to.

“What’s going on in that beautiful fuckin’ head of yours, Blue? It’s givin’ me a fucking aneurism just _looking_ at ya.”

You startled slightly at the sound of Negan’s voice, but quickly gathered yourself and pulled open the passenger door before gesturing for him to climb in. “Sorry, was just revelling in the fact you’d finally shut up.”

Negan chuckled under his breath and shook his head in disbelief. “Fuck me. The shit never stops with you, does it, Blue?”

“First of all – no thanks,” you shot back, raising an eyebrow as you glanced down between his spread legs. Lucille was resting barbed-end down for a good reason. “I don’t even wanna know where _that’s_ been.”

Negan’s grin at that was almost enough to make you smile back. _Almost._

“And second? If you can’t take it, _big boy_ , maybe you shouldn’t dish it out to start with.”

With that, you pushed the door shut and jogged round to the driver’s side, shooting a glance up towards the closest guard platform and nodding in silent command for them to open the gate.

As you buckled up, Negan shifted in his seat to face you and leaned half against the window. “Big boy, huh?”

You held a hand up to stop him continuing.

“Figure of speech,” you assured him, then put the car into drive and pulled away. “But before you offer, I have zero interest in finding out if it’s literal, so don’t even think about it.”

The look in his eyes when you glanced across at him told you that sentiment was already too late, but he didn’t voice whatever was going through his head and you sure as Hell weren’t complaining.

The silence was temporary, though; you barely made it halfway to the outer perimeter before he broke it again, but something told you him allowing even that long took a lot of effort on his part.

“What’s up, Darlin’?” he probed. “You seem a little… tense. You really that sad to see me go?”

 _“Sad?”_ You shot him a look as your eyebrows raised. _Tense?_ “I think you mean _ecstatic_.”

“Now, that ain’t fucking true, is it?” he teased as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “You’re gonna fucking miss the shit outta me while I’m gone.”

“I’ll miss busting the fuck outta your balls,” you admitted, unable to stop your lips curving into a slight smile that time. “But I think your ego could do with the break to recover, don’t you?”

“My ego’s fine, Sweetheart,” Negan assured you with a wink. “I can fucking show you if yo-”

“Nope,” you cut in quickly. “Nope, I’m good when it comes it wanting _anything_ from you right now.”

“You sure about that?” he pressed, but you knew there was no real push behind it. It didn’t send a shudder up your spine when he moved closer, either. “ _Nothing_ else?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure.”

Negan held his hands up and shrugged, but didn’t seem entirely convinced.

He was right not to be.

Truth was, there _was_ something more you wanted from him, but after waiting so long to bring it up, you were worried your final request you look like a move born from bad faith, and that made you hesitant to bring it up. This one wasn’t about adding to the war chest; it was much more personal.

You chewed on your bottom lip, fingers drumming against the steering wheel.

There was no delicate way to ask what you needed to, no soft transition from banter into bartering to help this time, so you held back until you were parked up by the gate before psyching yourself up to take the plunge.

“Before you go…”

“I fucking knew it,” Negan laughed a little bitterly as you held open the door for him again, stepping out with Lucille taking place over his shoulder this time instead of by his side. “Come on then, Blue. What the Hell do you fucking want?”

“I…” You glanced warily at Lucille, then cleared your throat discreetly to dislodge the lump that had formed there.

Fuck, anyone would think you were about to ask him for the world. It felt like you may as well have been, with how badly this could go wrong.

He tilted his head to the side, eyes tightening almost imperceptibly. “What is it, Blue?”

You closed some of the distance between you and tried to keep your face as open as possible, make it easy for him to read you even as his expression changed so you couldn’t do the same to him. Hopefully it would be enough for him to see this as the request it was instead of a play.

“I’d like to come to The Sanctuary again before things get set in motion.”

His brow raised, but he said nothing.

“After that little display of force with those guys out there?” You gestured with your head towards the gate, where his disarmed men were still waiting. “I want to vet whoever you plan to send here _before_ I let them through those gates. No surprises.”

He let out a frustrated sigh, fingers tightening their grip on Lucille. “Blue, what the fuck’ve I gotta fuckin’ do to make you fuckin’ understand I’m not some lying as-”

You stepped forward and pressed a hand against his chest, feeling the warmth of him through his white t-shirt, then tilted your head up slightly so you could meet his gaze again.

“I do understand.”

And, God help you, that was the truth.

Negan stuck to his code, followed through on his threats _and_ his promises, even if he twisted them slightly to suit his needs; yes, he had come earlier than he’d said he would, but he’d at least warned you he’d be coming to begin with and given you twenty-four hours before showing up. That was more than you’d expected, and you understood his reasons for doing it.

He hadn’t lied to you thus far and, if you played by the rules, you knew he wouldn’t going forward, either. That seedling would continue to grow.

But that was with _him,_ not his people.

They were still strangers to you, and while you knew for damn sure The Saviors were acting on Negan’s orders when they’d hurt and maimed people from other communities, you were also pretty certain some of them had deliberately gone above and beyond with the extent of the damage they’d caused. _Those_ people were the ones you were wary of. They _enjoyed_ the violence and power.

Their type could easily become Them.

“ _You,_ I get,” you murmured, and while it was barely even noticeable, you caught how his body lost some of its sudden tension with your words. “As for your _men_? I don’t know a thing about them beyond their reputation, and I need to understand _exactly_ who I’m letting stay in my house before they get here. And if this means we have to delay for a week so you can vet my people too, so be it, but Negan…”

His fingers pressed under your chin in a move that was becoming familiar, now. You met his gaze and held it, allowing him to see whatever he needed to in your eyes.

The plea – God, was it a plea – came out soft, almost vulnerable. “Please.”

His brow furrowed, lip curling slightly as his jaw tightened and a flash of _something_ flicked over his face.

_Fuck._

“Negan, I-”

He cut across you, voice harsh in a way that made it hard to work out where his anger was truly aimed. “He really did a fucking number on you, didn’t he?”

“W-What?” you managed to get out through the ice that suddenly surged up to try and drown you. _No, no, don’t bring Him up. Not now. We were doing so well…_

“How many of those fuckers did he have under him, Blue?” Negan shook his head minutely as he felt you stiffen under his touch. “Ten? Twenty?”

“Does it matter?” Your voice was almost pleading again, and you hated it.

“It fuckin’ matters to me,” he replied gruffly, then gritted his teeth before continuing, “If you wanna vet my fucking people? You’re gonna give me what I want first.”

You swallowed thickly as a jolt of fear buzzed through your chest, then took a steadying breath and spoke clearer this time. _Play the game, Blue. Play the game._ “Name it.”

“I just wanna know one fucking thing,” he murmured. As he swayed towards you, you found your fingers curling against his t-shirt instead of pushing him away, gaze flitting from Lucille to his moving lips and back again before returning to his eyes once more. “Did that motherfucker suffer?”

You blinked, stunned.

 _That_ was what he wanted to know?

“Blue,” he pressed, thumb stroking across your skin as he tipped your head up a little more. “Did. He. Fuckin’. Pay?”

“Yes.” The confirmation escaped from some deep part of you, firm and proud. _Red, heat, slick, tears…_ “They all did.”

Negan smirked, then leaned down and in until his lips were at your ear. “Good girl.”

Your eyes fluttered shut at his words, and warmth replaced ice at the feel of his soft chuckle breathed out across your skin. Pride had never been something you’d associated with _that_ until now. It felt good.

When you opened your eyes again, he was gazing down at you with such a look of triumph and _want_ that you had to take a half-step back.

“I thought you’d’ve wanted that spaghetti recipe,” you tried to break the tension with, but instead of soothing things, all it did was make Negan’s expression tighten, his hand moving to cup your cheek.

“What I want is for you to fucking _trust_ me, Blue,” he uttered lowly. “So if vetting my fucking people is what it’s gonna take for you to start, then fine… vet away. But if you really think I’d send someone in here to hurt you…”

“I’m not saying you would,” you countered, unable to move away. The hot and cold was too much to bear; you were toeing a dangerous line and you knew it. “But I don’t make the same mistakes twice. I can’t. Just because they behave when you’re there-”

“Monster in man’s skin.” He sighed, but it was tinged with frustration again. “I remember.”

“It’s my job to keep them safe,” you murmured. “I can’t risk putting them in danger. Not again.”

“For fuck’s sake, Blue…” He shook his head. “You fucking…” He stepped back and let his hand drop from your face, twisting Lucille in his grip. “Fine. Three mother _fucking_ days. Then you can come do whatever the fuck it is you need to so I can get the fuck on with running this fucking thing.”

You knew better than to do anything else but agree. “Okay.”

“And don’t try to be fucking cute and show up fucking early just ‘cause that’s what I fucking did, either,” he warned. “My men will fucking shoot the shit out of you on sight.”

You knew that was probably a lie, but wouldn’t chance it regardless.

“Three days. Not a moment sooner,” you agreed. The walls were coming back up, all traces of his slightly softened edges becoming barbs again and, in a twisted way, you were glad. It made it easier to focus fully on the game again. “And I’ll come alone.”

His mouth twisted into something bitter. “Glad we fucking understand each other.”

You were missing something, you could tell.

As he turned away, you reached out to grab his arm on instinct.

“Negan…”

“What the fuck do you want now, Blue?” he all but growled, his hazel eyes sharp as they hooked onto yours.

_God damn._

Had you hurt his feelings?

“Blue, fucking spit it out,” he snapped.

Yes.

Yes, you had.

But without knowing how, any attempt at fixing it would be pointless.

_Kicking the hornet’s nest…_

“It’s nothing, I just…” You shook your head and frowned, letting your hand drop from his elbow. “Forget it.”

“Fucking finally.” He lifted Lucille and pointed her at the gate. “You gonna let me out this fucking place now, or what?”

You bit your tongue to keep from reacting, then reached to your belt for the radio and lifted it to your lips. “Grady?”

“ _Yes, Ma’am.”_

“Standby to open up on East,” you instructed, knowing he wouldn’t have left the Saviors unattended.

 _“Lila’s already in position, Ma’am,”_ came the reply, because _of course_ she’d stuck around until you got there. “ _Just waiting for your signal.”_

You smiled to yourself, then whistled loud and clear before turning to face Negan again. The gate slid open immediately. “You’re free to go.”

“That it?” He raised an eyebrow and teased his bottom lip with his tongue like before as he swaggered forwards. His game face was well and truly reinstated now he was in view of his men. “No kiss goodbye?”

“From me?” You stood up straighter, locked eyes dead and kept your chin high. “You’ve got five wives at home to take one of those from.” His eyes flashed again, but you didn’t back down. “Or is it six?”

His jaw clenched tight, and you took the chance to close the distance before he could, bringing your lips to _his_ ear for once.

“Goodbye, Negan.”

You pressed a kiss to his cheek, then lowered yourself off your tiptoes in preparation to move away, only for him to grab you by the hips to keep you in place, Lucille’s barbs digging into you in the process. By accident or on purpose, you were too startled to tell.

“I don’t _take_ a single fucking thing from my wives,” he ground out darkly. “Not everyone’s a fucking monster, Blue. You’d do well to fucking remember that.”

You held his gaze for just a moment, trying not to let the cut from his words bleed through, but then he smirked and you knew you’d failed _._

“See you around, Doll.” He winked, then disappeared behind you towards his men, voice booming triumphantly. “Come on, you fucks! Let’s get the fuck outta here. We got shit to do.”

Your hands clenched into fists as you heard the truck start up and pull away, body frozen in place with the weight of Negan’s words.

_Not everyone’s a fucking monster, Blue._

You knew that.

But after what you’d done? After who you’d let in?

You no longer trusted yourself to tell the difference.


	12. The Only Reason (that i'm here)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, lovelies!
> 
> Guess what?! I'm now officially moved in and settled with J so things are a LOT easier, which means there shouldn't be any more long delays between posts! Apologies for any errors, though - I am currently on a mix of strong codeine, paracetamol, naproxen and amitriptyline which is a RIDE!
> 
> No Negan in this one, but I need to warn there is mention of a suicide attempt/suicidal thoughts of a minor character, so if that is triggering for you please take care.
> 
> The next one should be up soon, so let me know your thoughts as they are the fruit that feeds my inspiration juicer! (Obscure analogy there but whatever, I'm on pain meds!)
> 
> Love you all so much, and thanks for your comments <3
> 
> Soph xx

_Everybody praying that I’ll change,_

_Yeah, maybe one day,_

_But, tomorrow?_

_I’ll be back at it._

The days after Negan’s departure were tough. Stressful. Exhausting. Painful…

You could barely even come up with words accurate enough to describe them; they were just a blur of motion, but under it all ran that constant feeling of being wound tighter and tighter.

With no reprieve or momentary let up, the strain was taking its toll on you physically as well as mentally.

Everybody had questions. About Negan. About the day’s plan. Anything and everything they could think of.

Everybody needed you for something. Advice. Assistance. Mediation. Comfort.

You were used to that, used to the grind of keeping things going, but this time round you were too on edge - too _unsettled -_ to do anything other than get dragged along by the riptide and hope your head would manage to stay above water.

Nobody was going to let you stop and take a breath.

_Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown._

You couldn’t bring yourself to admit it, but Negan’s words had aggravated an infected wound, torn off the band-aid without warning, and that meant your nightmares had been more vivid than ever.

Even retreating to the bathtub every night in an attempt to fend them off hadn’t helped; every time you closed your eyes for more than a second, He was there waiting for you, only now He was wearing Negan’s face instead of His own. And so, like tonight – or was it morning, now? – you’d ended up simply laying there in silence, unable to sleep but barely conscious either, just to be able to have a moment to yourself.

The lack of sleep was catching up to you and you knew it, but every time you tried to truly rest or take more than those single moments, something or someone else would pop up and stop you.

It wasn’t like you could turn your people away. Not when they were relying on you to guide them.

_Was your judgement even worth trusting anymore?_

You groaned softly and sunk lower into the empty tub, knees rising so you were half-curled into a ball with your head tipped back against the porcelain edge.

Self-doubt wasn’t something you were allowed anymore. Your decisions had to be logical, rational, impartial… things like doubt and worry weren’t part of the equation. They couldn’t be.

But what Negan had said…

“Blue?”

You released a slow breath and stared up at the ceiling, knocking your head against the edge of the tub in frustration.

“Blue!”

With a muttered curse, you lifted a hand to run it through your hair and you forced yourself to sit up.

“Yes, Mikaela.”

“We need you downstairs.”

You let your eyes fall shut for half a second, fists curling against the bathtub.

_Just one moment of peace…_

“Blue?”

You clenched your jaw.

_Breathe. Focus. Keep going._

“I’ll be right there, Mikaela,” you called, resignation tainting your tone. “Just give me a sec.”

With a heavy sigh, you hauled yourself up out the bathtub and hissed when your knees threatened to give out on you. Your body had started to make its protests known in the most frustrating of ways, but like always you pushed through it and forced your feet to carry you to the sink, resisting the urge to look at your reflection in the mirror. You didn’t need to see it to know you looked like shit.

Like self-doubt, worrying about your own wellbeing was a luxury you could no longer afford either.

You splashed some cold water on your face and neck to wake yourself up a little, then roughly dried it with a towel before clumsily walking to the door and pulling it open to reveal an anxious-looking Mikaela on the other side.

“What’s happened?” you asked worriedly, glancing down the hallway behind her. It couldn’t have been much past dawn – the farmhouse was still near-silent – but the familiar adrenaline rush still flooded you anyway, albeit a little sluggish and stuttered. “Is everyone okay? Is there a breach?”

Mikaela may have been rapidly approaching her eighteenth birthday but, like most of your people, ill-fitting clothes and lack of make-up often made her look much younger, and now was no exception. Her eyes were wide and she looked a little skittish, fidgeting on the spot as she stared at you. “Um…”

“Mikaela. What’s happening?”

Your tone was a lot snappier than intended, but it clearly worked, for Mikaela startled out of whatever was in her head and quickly stammered, “A-A-Alyssa...”

Your stomach dropped.

_“Fuck.”_ You pulled the door shut behind you as you started down the hallway with Mikaela in tow, almost running towards the stairs. “Did she burn herself again? Is she okay?”

You skidded slightly at the bottom of the first flight, barely able to keep your feet from stumbling over each other in your haste.

“Is she having an episode?” you pressed, but Mikaela didn’t say a word, just followed along behind you like a lost puppy. “Mikaela, talk to me! _Is she having an episode?_ ”

“She, uh…” _Third flight._ “She just, uh, she just…”

Fuck, you were too tired to be patient.

_“Mikaela!_ Where is she?”

You were halfway across the entrance hall now, aiming for the laundry room where Alyssa usually retreated to, but Mikaela grabbed for your arm before you could get much further.

You shuddered violently and barely managed to contain the urge to wrench your arm free, throw up, or both.

_Where do you think you’re going, Baby? I’m not done yet._

“M-Mik-” Your throat closed up, but you forced yourself to try again. “Mikae-la.”

“Sorry, I didn’t…” Mikaela let her hand drop, regret written all over her face.

_Not her fault. Not her fault._

“J-Ju-Just tell me where she is,” you ground out, fists clenching with the effort it took to ignore the crawling sensation seeping across your skin.

_That was Him. She’s not Him._

“She’s in the m-med bay.”

_Oh, God._

Nausea erupted up like a volcano inside you and you immediately rushed towards the med bay doors, your stomach well and truly knotted and your head pounding like the most torturous of drums. _Not again. Please not again._ “Alyssa?! Alyssa!”

You burst through the doors with your heart in your throat, only for it to plummet back down the moment you saw Alyssa curled up on one of the beds, shaking despite the blankets thrown over her.

You’d been here before.

_It’s alright, Alyssa, you’re gonna be alright… Tell me what happened. Did He… Did He…?_

You should’ve known better than to hope it wouldn’t happen again.

“I just… I found her… She…”

You swallowed thickly, never taking your eyes off Alyssa’s vulnerable ones as she stared tearfully at you. Not quite seeing. Not quite aware. Just lost. “It’s okay, Mikaela. Thank you.”

“Marie said to wait…”

“I’ll wait with her,” you murmured as you slowly took a step towards the bed, hands up to show you weren’t a threat. Alyssa shuddered, and you took the moment’s break to glance back at Mikaela. “You can go now, sweetheart.”

Mikaela gave a half-whimper, half-sigh of relief, then turned to leave at the same time you focused back on Alyssa, keeping your footsteps light and even.

“Alyssa? Honey? It’s Blue.” You moved closer to the bed, in her line of sight. “I’m gonna sit down now, okay?”

Alyssa tensed as you eased yourself onto the edge of the mattress, sitting upright so you could face her, but she didn’t protest. Instead, she let out an unsteady breath and closed her eyes, tears spilling across the bridge of her nose.

“Let me see,” you urged softly, gently resting one hand on her shoulder as the other curled round the top edges of the blankets.

“M’sorry,” she croaked, then let out a quiet sob as you slowly pulled back the blankets, revealing her freshly bandaged forearm.

You’d expected as much, but the sight still made your eyes prick.

“Oh, Aly,” you whispered, moving your hand from the blanket to hers. “Honey…”

“I c-can’t,” she whimpered as her fingers curled around yours. “I c-can’t d-do this any… anym-more.”

You squeezed her hand tightly, chest so tight words wouldn’t come.

“How d-do you do i-it?” she blubbed. “ _H-How?_ ”

Moving your mouth was like wading through toffee. “Aly…”

“He’s a-always _there_ ,” she moaned. “He won’t go-go away. Why w-won’t he g-go _away?_ ”

She curled in on herself even tighter, and you felt your hands shake as you tried to comfort her physically. Mentally, there was nothing you could do. There was nothing anyone could do.

Some scars ran too deep.

You knew that.

Her every moment, waking and sleeping, was haunted by the horrors she’d experienced both in and outside the walls of your home.

Her mother was torn to pieces by the dead right in front of her.

Her brothers laid in the same place your father did.

And then He had chosen her as his third victim.

Hettie. Laura. Alyssa…

Was it crueller to lie and tell her she had everything to live for, or be truthful and admit there wasn’t anything left for her to make the fight worth it?

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, stroking her hair as tears welled in your eyes. “I’m so…”

“Not your fault,” Alyssa croaked out. “He was… He was worse to you.”

_Can’t breathe. Blood. Burning. Hold still, Baby, don’t wanna mess up that pretty little skin…_

You let out an unsteady breath. Thinking about that was not an option. “Alyssa…”

“No, Blue,” she cut in, voice hardening as her teary gaze met yours. “I know you feel it. You _know._ So h-how do you keep going? _Why?_ ”

Your blood turned to ice as you swallowed back your nausea. _Just a moment of peace…_

“You pretend you’re okay, but you f-feel the same way I- I do.” She laughed bitterly, wiping the shaking hand you weren’t holding under her eye. “You’re a good actress, Blue. You know that? I-I- I tried to be like you, but…”

_Uneasy lies the head…_

“I just… I was thinkin’, and… you’re l-lying to everyone. All the time. You… you lie, and you fix things for everyone, and yo-you pretend it’s okay, but everyone kn-knows you’re not okay, Blue!” With every word, your body rooted itself in place more and more, paralyzing you with no other option but to listen. “We all know! We all _saw_ and _heard_ and…” _pain. blood. no more. please. screaming._ “and now, they’re _choosing_ not to see it! _They’re_ pretending too and I can’t take it anymore!”

“Aly…” _– please stop, please stop –_ “th-that doesn’t mat-”

“It _does_ matter!” Her eyes burned into yours, anger rushing to the surface instead of grief and pain. Her fingernails dug into your arm, but you were too startled to flinch. Too startled to run. “He killed them! He _raped_ us! But you… He did it to you over and over and _over_ again and so did They, and nobody tried to stop them! Nobody _could_ stop them! And now, N-Negan? What if he does it, too?”

_Not everyone’s a fucking monster, Blue._

“He won’t,” you mumbled, frowning. “He wouldn’t…”

_I’m not a bad guy, Blue… Don’t make me turn into one._

“He _could!”_ Alyssa countered desperately, clutching your arm even tighter. “ _That’s_ the world, now! That’s all that’s left! Don’t you see, Blue? Don’t you _see?!”_

“That’s not…” Your lips wouldn’t move right. “That’s not…”

“It’s the truth!” She was pushing herself up now, trying to get free of the blankets, and you could barely hold her in place. The disconnect between your mind and body kept getting in the way. “I can’t do it anymore! I don’t want to _be here_ anymore! So why do you keep trying to make me stay?! Why won’t you just let me go!”

Alyssa was growing hysterical, scratching at her own forearm as well yours even as you tried to stop her, and when red started bleeding through, she keened, tears spilling from her eyes again. “Let me go! Let me _go!_ ”

“I can’t!” you blurted as your body moved on autopilot to restrain hers. “Alyssa, I _can’t!”_

“I hate you!” Alyssa spat, venom injected into every word. “I _hate_ you! I don’t want this! Let me GO!”

Your head snapped back as the force of her forehead ramming into your nose sent pain radiating across your entire face and neck, but you refused to give up.

“Alyssa, listen to me!” you begged, spluttering slightly as blood ran into the back of your throat. “Stop!”

“No!” she wailed as she started to thrash against you. “Please, Blue! _Please!_ I don’t want to do this anymore! I don’t… I don’t…”

Her eyes rolled upwards and her body went limp, slumping back against the bed.

Your stomach dropped, but then a hand gently touched your shoulder and you shuddered in fear before a soft voice made you realize who it was.

“Blue…”

You turned your back to Marie and Alyssa and stepped away, eyes closed and hand covering your throbbing nose as you tried to calm yourself enough to _breathe,_ let alone think.

“It’s just Pentothal,” Marie murmured into the silence that followed. Although she hadn’t attempted to close the distance, her words still felt like a punch to the gut. “She’ll be out for a while.”

You nodded slowly as the weight of what Alyssa had said sunk heavily onto your shoulders, threatening to push you under that riptide.

_Why now?_

_Why today?_

“Blue…”

“M’fine.” Your voice was small… timid. Unbelievable.

Weak.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t think she’d…”

“I should’ve known,” you mumbled resignedly, swiping away the tears that had spilled over without permission and hissing in a breath when the movement made your entire face sting. “This is my fault.”

“None of this is,” Marie countered softly, and you knew she didn’t only mean your current situation. You just couldn’t think about that right now.

The truth was, this one _was_ on you.

When it came to medical supplies, you were short on everything and had been for a while, especially after the failed run that had cost Andrew his life. Gauze. Sutures. Lidocaine. Pain killers. You didn’t even have anything spare to help your nose bleed.

But those weren’t what Alyssa had been needing for months.

Anti-depressants were.

You’d known it. Marie had known it.

And yet, _you’d_ decided they were too dangerous to give out when the next supply was never guaranteed.

_You’d_ chosen not to include them on the supply list.

And now _this_ had happened.

“We’re out of options, aren’t we?” you deduced, tone bitter. How could you have ever thought there was any _other_ option? “She needed those meds from the start.”

Marie sighed sadly. “I don’t think… At this point…”

You clenched your jaw. “Don’t.”

You both knew what she was about to say.

What if this would be too little, too late?

Was it worth trying to save somebody who so desperately didn’t want saving?

Would keeping her alive even _be_ saving her?

“I’m going on a run,” you decided, wiping your bloodied nose on your sleeve and relishing in the pain. _Focus, Blue. Focus._ “I should’ve done this months ago.”

“Not like that, you’re not,” Marie protested, her feet shuffling across the floor betraying her urge to comfort you. You were glad she held back – you couldn’t take her coddling you, not now. “Your nose…”

“My _nose?”_ You shook your head and moved to grab one of the empty backpacks your scouters used to carry things back from runs. _None of these should ever have been empty…_ “This is about Alyssa’s _life!_ About making sure we don’t fail anyone else! We need to get back on track, Marie, and we can’t do that by hiding in here! We should be _doing_ something about it!”

“You can’t go out on your own, Blue. It’s too dangerous,” Marie pushed back, her disapproval staining every word. “We need you he-”

“Everyone _always_ needs me!” you cut in harshly, throwing your hands up in frustration. “All of you! You always need _something!_ But what about what _I_ need? What about _me?_ I have given up _everything,_ and all of that will have been for nothing if she dies!”

“Blue, please…”

“This is not how this ends!” Your eyes were on fire, blood boiling in your veins as you turned to Marie with your hands shaking violently and head pounding. “We have not come all this way just to give up!” You knew you sounded desperate, but were too tired to care. “There has _got_ to be more left than this! There has to be _something!”_

“Sweetheart…” Marie looked at you with such pity… such sadness… You couldn’t take it.

Trembling all over, you slung the backpack across one shoulder and headed for the door, unable to bear her expression any longer. “Tell the others I’ll be back soon.”

“What about Negan?”

You froze with your fingers wrapped around the door handle.

“You’re meant to be meeting him today. You can’t do that if you’re out on a run.”

“He can wait,” you shrugged off, even as your head screamed how much of a bad idea missing that meeting would be. “Alyssa can’t.”

The sound of your name – your _real_ name – from Marie’s lips made you bite back a sob.

_You’re not her._

_He’s not Him._

“You’re making a mistake.”

You closed your eyes. You seemed to have been making a lot of those recently.

You couldn’t win no matter what you did.

Damned if you did, damned if you didn’t.

People could die either way – at Negan’s hand, or due to lack of medical supplies, the result would be the same.

Action or Inaction.

Do or don’t.

_Did it even matter?_

“You’re burnt out,” Marie continued quietly. “You’re exhausted. What Alyssa said…”

_That’s the world, now! That’s all that’s left!_

“Marie,” you pleaded softly, too overwhelmed to think straight, but she wouldn’t let it go.

“You’ve put everybody else first for too long and it’s killing you, Blue. I see it. Lila sees it. You need a break.”

You laughed bitterly and pushed back tears again. “It’s the end of the world, Marie. We don’t get to take breaks.”

_I wish we did…_

“Then please… If you insist on going, don’t do it on your own,” Marie urged. “If you run into trouble out there, you’ll end up missing this meeting… or worse.”

You stared at the door and counted to three, giving yourself time to breathe.

You didn’t have the energy to fight today. Not about this.

“Okay,” you relented weakly. “I won’t go alone.”

“Thank you,” Marie sighed, sounding more than a little relieved. “I’ll make sure everything’s okay while you’re gone. Just… be careful, Blue. Please?”

You nodded numbly, then pushed down on the handle and opened the door, almost stumbling back towards the entrance hall as your mind and body tried clumsily battling for control over what little energy you had left.

It was weird, to be so deeply woven into every aspect of everything around you yet feel completely disconnected from it at the same time. Your lizard brain was the only thing keeping you going, even if you were loath to admit it to yourself.

If you stopped long enough to think about how you felt, about the bone-deep exhaustion and the pent-up anxiety and frustration that plagued you… it would all fall down like a house of cards, and you’d spent too long building that damned thing back up to let that happen.

If you could, you did, and then when you couldn’t anymore, you just kept going.

It wasn’t healthy and it wasn’t right, but what choice did you have?

_You feel the same way I do..._

Alyssa had been closer to the truth than you’d ever wanted to admit.

Your people needed you, but without them, you had no reason to keep fighting.

Without them, you’d-

“What the Hell happened?”

You whirled around in shock as a hand grabbed at your bicep, then tried to lash out, to fight back somehow, only for a second hand to grab your wrist before you could make contact.

“Jesus fucking Christ!”

You blinked. Once. Twice.

Lila’s kind eyes met yours, her brow furrowed in worry. “Holy shit, your face…”

You let your hand drop from its striking position and exhaled a shuddering breath as Lila shifted her grip from your bicep to your shoulder.

“Blue…” she sighed softly as her frown deepened. Her thumb traced an arc across your shoulder and, for once, the touch grounded you instead of making you panic. But that fact threw you for a loop even more.

“I need…” You shook your head, trying to focus. “I need Jacob and… and Stephanie... the others…”

“Stephanie’s on a rest period and Jacob’s on watch at the outposts with the others,” Lila reminded you. “You sent them last night, remember?”

“Right,” you muttered. “Of course.”

Lila chewed on her bottom lip, then glanced towards the stairs as footsteps echoed from the upper floors before gently guiding you toward the entrance hall closet, giving you more privacy.

“Talk to me, B,” she murmured, tone gentle yet firm. “What happened?”

With the fingers of her hand which wasn’t on your shoulder laced between yours, you had something tactile to focus on, something real, and after a few moments of trying to put your thoughts in order, you met her gaze again and managed to hold it.

“Alyssa,” you began. “She tried to… you know.”

Lila hissed in a breath and shook her head sadly. “Oh, Blue…”

“We need more supplies, Li,” you continued, squeezing her hand to stay on track. “We’re so far in the fucking red it’s not even funny.”

“I know,” she agreed. “So I’ll go. Right now. I’ll get the others and-”

“No, no, I didn’t mean…” you protested softly. “I can’t let you go again; it’s not f-”

“We’re family, Blue,” Lila cut in. “We do this shit together.”

You held each other’s gaze for several seconds, that silent communication between the two of you as ever-present as always. Different pages; same book.

“Alright,” you acquiesced, nodding. “Alright. I’ll make sure the truck is prepared, get everything-”

“Nope,” Lila disagreed with a shake of her head. “ _You_ need to eat. _I’ll_ sort the rest.”

You knew better than to argue.

It wasn’t unusual for you to have no appetite; before that last meal with Negan, yours hadn’t made much of an appearance in a while. Hell, you couldn’t even remember when you’d last eaten since that night. Food wasn’t exactly a priority when everything else seemed to be falling to shit around you, and that meant you probably hadn’t so much as _looked_ at any in days.

At Lila’s urging, you headed to the kitchen and grabbed a bowl of simple oatmeal, eating it spoonful by sluggish spoonful while trying not to give in to the urge to throw up. You even managed to gulp down a bottle of water for good measure, despite the sudden sustenance making your stomach twist in protest. Regardless of the discomfort it caused, it was better to be safe than sorry; passing out mid-run would only endanger the others.

While you still felt shaky and more than a little queasy, you couldn’t deny you felt less unsteady than before, and even managed to shoot Lila a small but grateful smile when she ducked her head round the door to check you were ready to go.

“Truck’s loaded up – you riding shotgun or am I?”

You knew Lila well enough to read between the lines; she didn’t want you driving, but wasn’t going to force the issue.

Luckily for you both, you knew also knew yourself well enough to know even _attempting_ to drive would be a mistake in the state you were in.

“I’ll ride shotgun,” you conceded, grabbing your backpack from the floor before pushing yourself up on your feet. “You need me for nav?”

Lila shook her head and held the door open for you as you approached, expression morphing into one of conflicting emotion. “I remember the way.”

“You got a plan?” You frowned, then felt the wind get knocked out of you as realization kicked in.

_The clinic where Andrew had been shot._

“It’s the only place we know for sure’s got anything,” she murmured regretfully as you both headed outside. “But if you think…”

“No,” you cut in softly, shaking your head. “No, you’re right. It’s the best option.”

“You sure?” Lila’s steps slowed, gaze sweeping over your face to search for any signs of uncertainty.

“Lila.” You reached out to touch her shoulder – one of the few times you ever initiated contact – and smiled reassuringly. “It’s the right call.”

Lila nodded, shooting you a grateful yet sad smile.

You squeezed her shoulder in silent understanding, then turned to the others, who were geared up and standing by the truck, ready and waiting to go.

“Everyone good to go?” you called, trying to sound more upbeat than you felt.

When the chorus came back as mostly positive, you forced yourself to smile before reminding them all to keep their heads on a swivel and climbing into the front of the truck in silent encouragement for them to do the same.

As they all settled in the back, your shaking hands made it almost impossible to buckle yourself in, and you had to take a second to regroup.

_Keep going. Focus._

The buckle clicked into place.

They came first.

No matter what.

You just hoped it would be enough to save Alyssa.


	13. Bad Habits (they die hard)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've been really bad and not replied to your comments the past two chapters, but I have been really struggling with my back problems lately and it hasn't been until the past few days that I've been able to actually sit down and write!!
> 
> I will be replying to all comments today and tomorrow, but in the meantime I figured an extra long chapter might make up for it!
> 
> I won't say much to avoid spoiling anything, but chapter 14 is going to be a doozy ;-)
> 
> I love you all and appreciate you all and will stop rambling to let you get on with reading this 7.5K monster chap!
> 
> Soph xx

_Crawling in my skin._

_These wounds, they will not heal._

_Fear is how I fall._

_Confusing what is real._

It would never cease to amaze you, seeing how far humanity had fallen.

It was almost fitting, really, to be wiped out by your own kind. Nature always found a way; a self-destruct button that lay dormant until the time was just right, until somebody happened to stumble across it and accidentally activate the kill switch without ever even knowing they’d hit it.

You’d stopped trying to understand the _hows_ and _whys_ a long time ago; too little, too late, too much, too hard. Understanding wouldn’t stop reality from biting you in the ass. Determination and a will to survive would. And so, even though it would have been so easy to push it all to the back of your mind, you’d always refused to let yourself forget how bad things were outside the walls of The Thicket, but memory could never do the sheer _desolation_ of the new world justice. That consequence was one you had to experience first-hand to understand.

Grid-locked roads had turned into metallic graveyards.

Family homes were now horrific tableaus of _almosts_ and _once upon a times._

Bustling streets had mutated into morbid catwalks for the broken, rotten corpses that now ruled the Earth.

And in the thick of it all was life, dwindling yet desperately fighting to survive.

Unfortunately for nature and her plans, one of humanity’s biggest weaknesses was also its greatest strength; stubbornness.

There was probably something poetic in that.

“So what’s the plan here?”

A hand tapped your shoulder and you jerked slightly in shock before twisting in your seat to look back at Donna, who had leant forward from the middle of the back row and was looking at you expectantly. She was one of the newer members of your community, and never seemed to pick up on how uncomfortable her aversion to giving you your personal space made you feel.

“Blue?” she prompted, tilting her head impatiently. “You do have a plan, right?”

You gritted your teeth and leaned slightly away from her, then looked to Lila, whose fingers had tightened around the steering wheel. She’d never particularly liked Donna either and only let her come along on runs because she had no other choice, like now. That didn’t stop her from trying to find a way to split them up most of the time though, and from what you had seen you didn’t exactly blame her.

“We’re after medical supplies more than anything else. That’s our priority,” you told Donna firmly, but let your gaze flit to Jasmine and Nadia, who flanked her on either side. Justin and Aaron wouldn’t need briefing; like Grady, they’d had some ROTC training themselves and were up there as two of the best shooters you had. It was why they were in the bed of the truck, fully armed, instead of inside the cab with the rest of you. “If you come across anything else that might be useful, great, but no going off the reservation. No solo missions. Just get in, grab what we need, and go home. _That’s_ our plan.”

Donna nodded and leaned back, turning her gaze out the window almost dismissively. You weren’t offended – you didn’t have the energy to be – but you saw the way Lila’s mouth tightened in annoyance and so did Nadia, who smiled to herself before covering her lips with the backs of her fingers.

You felt the corner of your mouth turn up slightly when she met your gaze, then turned back to Lila, whose brow furrowed deeply as she slowed the truck slightly. You recognized the tension in her body for what it was; anxiety. Not due to Donna, though. Something else entirely.

Danger.

“What is it?” you murmured, following her gaze to the dead staggering aimlessly around the area. You were far enough away that they hadn’t really noticed you yet so, while it wouldn’t take much for that to change, you knew that alone wasn’t the cause of her worry.

Dead ones by themselves weren’t scary. Their grotesque faces and rotten bodies could be dealt with as long as you remained calm and didn’t let the horror of what they were overwhelm you.

It was when they caught you unawares that they became a problem.

And, judging by the look on Lila’s face, they had.

“Last time, we parked out back, used the dark for cover...” she explained quietly, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. “There weren’t this many of them then; we only needed to take down a few to get to the fire escape.”

“The gunfire that night must’ve drawn them in,” you sighed. You’d passed dozens of them in the last few minutes alone; more wouldn’t be far away even though you couldn’t see them. It was the perfect storm for them to be able to catch you off guard, just like you’d learn to fear. _Nothing could ever be easy, could it?_ “Only takes a few to notice and start coming to make ‘em gather like this.”

“We need the truck close in case things go south,” Lila thought aloud; exactly what had been running through your mind too. “But the noise of the engine… it’d be a swarm in no time – we’d never get up the fire escape without losing someone.”

“We’re screwed either way,” you muttered resignedly, running your hand through your hair. “ _Fuck._ ”

“Maybe we should go in through the front?” Jasmine offered up from the back of the truck, cutting through the tension with her soft voice. “That’s what the Saviors did.”

You twisted in your seat again to look at her, frowning. You’d forgotten she’d been one of the scouters that night. “How’d you figure?”

“It’s the only way they wouldn’t’ve seen us before we spotted them,” she explained, pointing ahead towards the main entrance in the distance as Lila slowed to a complete stop. “They came across from the central stairwell as we were checking out the second floor, and the only entry point that leads to there is the front door. We were there first, so if they’d come from anywhere else, they’d’ve seen the truck parked and picked us out from a distance.”

“That’s…” You tipped your head, considering her theory. “Pretty solid thinking, actually.”

“It might not be clear inside now, but since they got as far as that stairwell we know the doors can’t be locked, right?” Jasmine continued. “So if we can get to that front entrance, then…”

“There’s not much cover there, but we’d have options at least,” Lila mused as she mulled it over. “There’d be no bottleneck getting round to the side, so it could work if we’re quick enough. Blue?”

Donna’s gaze started boring into the back of your skull the moment Lila deferred to you. You tried to ignore it.

You didn’t need or want to know what her problem was; you just needed her to do her damned job.

“Scouting’s always been your domain, Lila,” you reminded her – and Donna. “If you think it’s worth a shot, it’s worth a shot. I’m behind you either way.”

Donna huffed under her breath, but you caught it. So did Lila.

It was as if she expected you to be some kind of omniscient dictator who barked orders without taking advice from anyone, and while you knew that was probably because her previous group’s leader had been exactly that before it had gotten him killed, you couldn’t help but feel irritated by it despite trying not to let it affect you.

Neither _omniscient_ nor _dictator_ were things you would ever be.

“Lila?” you prompted, giving her a pointed look before she could react. _Don’t start._ “Your call.”

She let out a frustrated sigh, then clenched her jaw and ran her hand through her hair. “It’s the best chance we’ve got.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” you confirmed, catching her gaze and nodding. “Get as close as you can, and we’ll take the rest as it comes.”

She flexed her fingers around the steering wheel again, then shook her head minutely before reaching down to put the truck back into drive. You’d be on the receiving end of her frustrated rant alongside a shot of tequila as soon as you got back, you could tell.

The silence that filled the short journey to the main entrance was tenser than you would have liked, but you were too busy trying to focus on what was to come to let it get to you. There was a time and a place for all that, and this was not it.

Right now, you needed to put all your energy into making it through those doors, gathering all the available supplies, and getting the Hell out of there with everyone unharmed.

Then, and only then, would you consider dealing with all the other bullshit that seemed to constantly pile up on your plate.

_God, you were tired._

“Nadia, Jasmine, I want you up front with me,” you instructed, pushing it all back as you neared the entrance. “Donna, Lila, you stick with Justin and Aaron at the rear, make sure there’re no surprises.”

“Okay, Blue,” Nadia agreed lightly as Jasmine nodded, eyeing the dead ones with concern.

They still hadn’t fully noticed the truck yet, but that was due to Lila’s skilled slow and careful roll. It wouldn’t take much to turn the tables; Lila wasn’t kidding when she said you’d all need to be quick.

“Donna?” you prompted impatiently when she still hadn’t responded after a few seconds. “You with us?”

You really didn’t need her attitude right then. None of you did.

“Yes, _Ma’am,_ ” she finally muttered, but then she gave you a mock salute and Lila cursed under her breath.

“Okay, that’s it!” she spat, slamming the brakes harshly as she turned to glare at the redhead. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“My _problem?_ ” Donna scoffed with a raise of her eyebrow.

“You always seem to have something to fucking say, so spit it the fuck ou-…” Lila’s words faded into the background as you stared out the window at the dead, who’d heard the tires squealing loud and clear and had turned towards the source.

“Lila…” you mumbled, lowering your free hand to the blade you always carried.

They were starting to approach now, one by one, like dominos falling in your direction.

_There goes the element of surprise._

“-e how you really feel,” Donna shot back, but god-fucking-damn it, you didn’t have _time_ for this.

“Both of you shut up!” you snapped, unbuckling your seatbelt before reaching for the door handle. “Everyone out! Now!”

You didn’t wait for them to acknowledge you. Didn’t wonder if they were right behind you.

The creatures were only feet away – you could smell, hear and _taste_ the death that oozed from them. Unless you acted fast, this would only end one way; you becoming _them_.

The first one’s skull caved under the thrust of your blade. The second and third fell seconds after it, falling heavily to the ground with a thud. They’d been rotting for a long time, brain matter squelching and disintegrating as you pulled your knife free, but their lack of strength was made up for by their numbers; for every one you took down, two more seemed to amble forward in its place.

You knew the others were moving around you, could hear their grunts of effort and muttered curses, but you had to go on the offensive, take the dead down before they reached you, and that took all your focus.

Push away. Hold. Stab.

Move on.

Push away. Hold. Stab.

Move on.

You were splattered in gore, chest heaving and muscles burning with the effort of pushing and pulling dead weight, but for the first time in too long, you were fully in control. This, you could handle. This, you were good at. The dead no longer fazed you; only the living did.

The path in front of you was clearing, the clinic doors almost like a beacon up ahead, so you called out to the others to run for the entrance as you took down the final corpse blocking your way with a swift pierce of the back of its head.

It fell heavily forwards, taking you along with it, but you managed to plant your weight against its back and use it to yank your blade back out of its skull. The fresher bodies were always tougher to manage. The lack of decay meant they were more solid than the rest, more _alive_ seeming, especially if they were newly turned and hadn’t succumbed to their version of ‘starvation’ yet.

“Gross,” you muttered, wiping your blade on its clothes, then cursed when you noticed the fall had ripped the knees of your jeans. They were the last half-decent pair you had. “Great.”

A panicked shriek from your left made your head snap up.

A swarm of dead ones were surrounding something – _someone_ – who had fallen behind, and a flash of fiery red told you exactly who it was.

_Donna._

“Blue!” Jasmine cried, and you glanced up ahead to see her urging you to join the rest of them at the door. You had a clear shot, but only if you moved _now_.

“ _Fuck_ ,” you growled, scrambling to your feet. You almost stumbled, slipping in a puddle of rot and decay, but managed not to take a nosedive and started sprinting towards your goal.

You hauled the first dead one back by the scruff of its neck and stabbed through its temple, shoving it away before moving on to the second and doing the same again.

Hands grabbed at you, but you dodged them best you could, rotten flesh sloughing away between your fingers as you pushed one set of jaws up just enough to be able to thrust your blade under its chin.

As its weight dropped, your grip on the handle slipped, giving number three a chance to get _way_ too close for comfort.

You groaned with the effort of trying to fight the attack from behind while still trying to retrieve your blade from the other’s skull, but then a fourth joined the fray and you had no choice but to let your weapon go and turn to face them.

You shoved at three’s disintegrating neck with one hand and pulled hard on four’s hair to keep its disease-ridden mouth away from you as best you could, but it was futile and you knew it.

You were losing your balance, each lunge threatening to topple you backwards over two’s corpse-

A loud bang followed by a spray of three’s putrid fluids across your face made you startle.

Without time to process _how_ and _why_ , you reacted instinctually, using both hands to shove four back just in time for a bullet to pierce its forehead, too.

_Keep your head on a swivel. Watch your own six._

Refusing to slow, refusing to stop, you turned and grabbed your blade from the ground, then charged at the next growling corpse, desperate to reach Donna before it was too late.

She was pinned by two lifeless bodies while fending off some not-so-dead ones with her bare hands and one foot, her knife lying on the ground just out of her reach. The exact position you would have been in, had that shooter - _Justin or Aaron_ , your brain supplied – not saved you.

You barrelled into the next dead one’s side to topple it over and away from Donna, then grappled with one of the others as she cried out in relief, finally able to reach her blade.

Fatigue may have made you messy, but adrenaline kept you going, kept your blade moving, and within seconds – _or was it minutes?_ – you managed to fend off the dead just long enough to earn yourself an opening.

You yanked Donna out from under the chaos and dragged her to her feet, then started running as fast as you could towards the clinic doors with her stumbling along behind you. Justin and Aaron laid down cover fire to take out any dead ones that tried to follow, but the ruckus was drawing in more of them, and you whistled out to signal for them to stop.

“C’mon!” you hissed, slowing just enough to put you half a step behind Donna. You grabbed at her bicep and forced her forwards faster, almost throwing her through the doors as Justin and Aaron moved out the way.

The moment the doors were slammed shut, Jasmine and Lila were there, using their own body weight to hold them closed while Justin and Aaron used one of the chains and padlocks your scouter groups always had to hand to lock them.

You hadn’t been exaggerating when you’d told Negan your people were used to handling the dead.

Things like that were just standard procedure for them now.

You squeezed Nadia’s shoulder in thanks as you passed her, then watched as Donna fell to her hands and knees, breathless and retching.

_So much for being a hardass._

“You bit?” you asked, tone coming off colder than you’d intended.

“I don’t… I don’t…” Donna wheezed, shaking her head.

You sighed softly, then moved to crouch down beside her. “Give me your hands.”

Donna let you inspect her shaking arms for bites, followed by any other areas that had been exposed in the tussle, then sagged in relief when you smiled and confirmed, “You’re clear.”

“T-Thanks,” Donna mumbled, dipping her chin in a single, _grateful_ nod.

“Mhmm,” you dismissed, then stood and grabbed her forearm to haul her to her feet before turning to the others and brushing yourself down. “We all good?”

“Just peachy,” Lila snarked as the dead started to rattle the doors, glaring at Donna. “No thanks to _her._ ”

“Lila,” you chided, though there was no bite to it. She had a point, even though she was the one who had slammed the brakes and not Donna.

To your surprise, the other woman held her tongue, sufficiently cowed by her near-miss to know arguing would only make things worse than they already were for her. You may not have known the specifics of how she had been overwhelmed by the dead like that, but you did know that none of the others would have deliberately put her in that situation, which meant she must’ve slipped up.

Like her or not, your people stuck together. It was why you had gone back for her instead of powering on; it was why she was still alive.

And now she knew it, too.

“Where to now?” you refocused, tucking your blade into your waistband with the handle resting over the duct-tape reinforced hoodie you were wearing for protection.

Early on, you’d lost two people to stray walkers in the space of a week because their arms had been bared to stave off the heat, and ever since then Lila had made all scouters wear a ‘uniform’ that was reinforced with the thick tape; she’d forced you to put the hoodie on before the truck had even made it past The Thicket’s external perimeter.

Judging by the lack of bitemarks on your arms, you probably owed your life to it and so did Donna. You had to hand it to Lila – the technique clearly worked despite how much like a slow-cooking burrito it made you feel.

“We checked the third floor and found nothing but a few treatment rooms,” Lila began, drawing everyone’s attention in. You felt your lips twitch, pride rising up in your chest. She had definitely come into her own since taking control of the scouters; it was why you’d pushed her to take the role to begin with. “Most we’ll find is some bandages, maybe mild pain killers.”

“Better than nothing,” Justin murmured, his voice low and calm as ever. “You said we need medical supplies, right? Even the minor stuff will help.”

Nadia nodded in agreement and, to your surprise, so did Donna.

“What about this floor and the second?” you wondered. “Did you have time to…”

Lila shook her head. “Third floor’s the only place we managed to clear fully. We got interrupted before we could really check the second, so it might not be a total write-off up there. It’s worth a check.”

“So we split off,” Aaron suggested. “One group clears down here, make sure there’s no surprises, and the other starts with the second floor?”

“We’ll check the treatment rooms,” Jasmine volunteered from her place beside Nadia. “It’ll only take a few minutes, and if anyone hits the jackpot we can come join you?”

Despite her soft tone, she sounded kind of off, and the anxious glance she shot at the ceiling told you why. She didn’t want to go upstairs.

“I’ll go,” you over-rode softly. “You stay here with Aaron and Lila. Nadia, you good to head up with Donna and Justin? Check the second floor?”

“Of course,” Nadia agreed, smiling.

“Alright, then. Eyes open, people,” Lila instructed, stepping back into her shoes as leader. “I don’t want anyone wandering off alone without clearing the area first. And, for the love of fuck, if you need to radio, buzz first – I want volumes down low until we know the place isn’t crawling.”

You palmed the handle of your knife and stepped forward as the others began to disperse, lowering your voice so only Lila could hear you murmur, “You see any anti-depressants… anti-psychotics… anything at all…”

“I know,” she whispered with a sad smile, reaching out to gently touch your forearm. “You sure you don’t want me to join you?”

You nodded. “I’m good. It’ll only take a second.”

She hesitated, then squeezed your arm gently before heading to join Aaron and Jasmine, who were waiting patiently for her at the entrance to the east hallway. She knew when to leave you to it even though it was hard for her to take that step back, and you were grateful.

You let your fingers curve around your blade’s handle, then turned and jogged over to the stairwell the others had walked up, taking the steps two at a time to catch up with them.

By the time you reached the top, Nadia and Donna had already started checking rooms one at a time while Justin stood watch; it was the only way to make sure no dead ones would be able to sneak up on them one they started searching for supplies. You smiled at their efficiency, then moved a few rooms ahead of them, pushing the door open before quickly stepping back with your hand ready to draw your weapon.

Nothing.

You poked your head in and glanced around just to make sure there was no immediate threat, then moved on the next room to do the same. It wasn’t the thorough check the others were doing, but it would help them to know there wasn’t anything that could easily get to them and hopefully speed up the process when they went to clear it themselves.

By luck or some kind of divine blessing, the rooms were clear to the end of the hallway, so after signalling to Justin you were moving on, you turned right towards the stairwell. You trusted them to do their jobs without you standing over them. If anything, being alone would do you some good, give you a break from having to be present and _talk_ all the time.

The others would be more useful where they were, since it was the more likely of the two upper floors to have anything worth taking. You could check the third floor and be back down again within a few minutes if there did turn out to be nothing up there, so it wouldn’t do any harm; you’d never be able to forgive yourself if you missed out on your shot to save a life because you didn’t bother looking.

But then you saw it.

Rusty brown streaks.

A dark puddle.

Bloody handprints on the emergency exit door.

You froze, feet cementing themselves to the patch of clear floor they were planted on.

It took a moment for you to understand.

And then that realization made you want to vomit.

This was where it had happened.

This was where…

_I’m here, I got you, Andrew… You’re gonna be fine, just hold on, okay?_

You closed your eyes and swallowed thickly. Pushed back the thoughts.

_Not now. Not here._

You clung to the memory of that feeling when you were taking down the dead ones outside, forced yourself to remember what it was like to have power, to be in control of the world, even if it was only fleeting… The warmth. The calm.

But that feeling brought with it the sensation of oozing flesh, of blood spatter and brains and your stomach churned, starting to rebel against the meagre food you’d fed it mere hours before…

Andrew’s flesh had wept, too. Red rivers instead of green rot. He’d been aware of everything that happened. Every moment. Every movement. The dead you’d put down hadn’t been.

You bit down hard on your bottom lip to make your brain process something real, something tangible… _Focus, Blue. Focus._

“Hey…”

A gentle hand touched your shoulder, making you flinch and your eyes snap open in shock.

“Sorry,” Donna murmured as she quickly removed her hand when you twisted round to face her, fingers hovering over the handle of your blade. “I just… Uh…” She faltered, and the expression on her face told you your own must’ve been ghostly. “I thought you… you might need backup… in case it’s not clear up there, so I…”

You nodded in acceptance, seeing the offer for the olive branch and distraction it was. “Sure.”

Donna gave a half smile, then frowned when she spotted the bloodstains you’d fallen short at. “Oh.”

_Yeah._

“Gotta keep movin’,” you tried to shrug off, but your fingers were gripping your knife so tightly, you were sure your knuckles must’ve turned white. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

Refusing to look down, you dodged round the stains and headed straight for the stairwell. Part of you almost wished the dead _were_ up there, just so you had something to focus on other than _that._ Something less heavy. Something less crippling.

There was nothing.

No dead. No double-dead.

Just band-aids and pain pills.

Just like Lila had said.

“You can go back down,” you called as you rummaged through the drawers of the second room, pulling out anything that seemed even remotely useful and shoving it into the bag Donna had handed you. “I’m good here.”

“You sure?” Donna asked, frowning. “I don’t mind…”

_I do._

“Donna, you don’t owe me anything,” you sighed tiredly as you turned to face her. “What happened back there? It’s just what this family does for each other. The others’ll need you downstairs – there’s fuck all up here for just one of us to gather, let alone two. It’ll make things quicker if you help them.”

Donna shuffled from foot to foot, looking uncertain for the first time since you’d met her.

“What?” you probed as you twisted back round to grab some gauze pads and sterile bandages for your growing collection. Fuck, you didn’t have the energy to babysit her. It was hard enough interacting with anyone at all to begin with.

“You mean that?” she wondered quietly after a few moments.

_… what?_

You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw, then focused on the next drawer, relieved to find some lidocaine and a couple of suture kits inside. Those would definitely be useful. “Mean what, Donna?”

“Family,” she clarified softly. “That really how you see us?”

_Oh, for the love of fuck…_

“I told you as much when I let you into my house,” you reminded her, trying not to let your frustration seep through even as you shoved the final suture kit into the bag more roughly than was necessary. “You may not think much of me, Donna, but one thing I’m not is a liar.”

“So it’s true, then?” she dug deeper. “What they said about… about what happened?”

Your hands stilled in their search, your chest tightening painfully.

“I don’t talk about that,” you managed to get out. Your tone was cold, impersonal. It had to be. “Whoever told you shouldn’t’ve.”

“So it is true,” she realized, and you heard her take an unsteady step forward. “Blue, I…”

Static crackled through the radio at your hip, giving you the reprieve you so desperately needed.

_Back to business._

You reached down to turn the volume up so you’d be able to hear when Lila’s voice carried across from the device.

 _“Downstairs is clear,”_ she announced a few seconds later. _“There’s not much here, but we cleared out the drugs store. Got some pain killers, allergy meds… enough for the minor league stuff. Anyone else got anything?”_

 _“We’ve got a whole bunch of shit on level two,”_ Justin replied. _“We could use some help moving it – we got anaesthetics, morphine… bunch’a that Amitriptyline stuff Marie said helps with nerve pain… heavy duty bandaging, saline, iodine, disinfectant… all sorts.”_

Your heart jumped at the list of stuff they’d managed to acquire and relief flooded through you when he mentioned the Amitriptyline. Low doses would help with nerve pain, yes, but a higher dose… there was a chance it could be exactly what Alyssa needed.

“Third floor’s as predicted,” you declared, realizing you ought to respond somehow, even if it was only so they’d know you were still alive. “Lila, you guys good to join the others up on two?”

 _“On our way,”_ she confirmed, and you could hear her footsteps echoing along with Jasmine and Aaron’s as they moved. _“Swarm at the door’s startin’ to die down, but I don’t wanna make more than one trip to the truck just in case. We’ll need to be quick, try not to draw their attention back to us when we leave.”_

 _“We haven’t got much bulk,”_ Nadia told her, _“so we’ll be fine as is as long as we have enough hands to help load the bags.”_

“You should join them,” you told Donna softly as you placed your radio on the top of the drawers before continuing to search without really seeing. “I’ll be down in a few.”

“Blue…” Donna sounded timid, like she was scared you were a ticking bomb whose fuse was about to blow. _Maybe you were._ “I’m sorry. About… about what happened. I didn’t… I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” you acknowledged, though you didn’t need her pity. Or her understanding. “Me too.”

You waited for her to leave, then braced your hands on the counter in front and bowed your head, letting out an unsteady breath.

You’d expected that some of the people who weren’t part of your community at the time would find out about what had happened. It had been such a big part of your people’s lives, what they had gone through, that it would have been strange if they didn’t ever speak of it. But what had happened to you wasn’t something you’d ever wanted anybody to know. Even those who _were_ there, you’d hidden everything you could from.

You’d learned not to scream when He did what He did to you. How not to show the pain you were in whenever you tried to walk, or move, or _breathe_ around your people.

It went unsaid.

It had to.

So knowing Donna had been told that horror story, even if only in part…

You shook your head and gritted your teeth, shoving whatever was left in the next drawers into the bag with rough, jerky motions just to give your mind something else to focus on. Suture kit. Eye patches. Gauze pads. Cotton balls. Tape. Scissors. Tweezers. Wipes. Next drawer. Next Room. Repeat.

It didn’t sound like much. Hell, it _wasn’t_ much, not really. But by the time you got through the final room, your bag was bulging and you’d calmed just enough to stop the white noise-static- _memory_ buzz in your ears and the fuzz in your head from taking over, so you’d count it as a win.

Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you headed over to the front window and smiled to yourself when you saw the dead had finally dispersed from the door, as Lila had predicted. There were still a few of them milling around out the front, but nothing you couldn’t handle. That didn’t mean you could relax though; you knew first hand that the odds could turn against you in a matter of seconds, so the sooner you got out of there, the better.

Reaching down to your waistband for the radio, you pressed the button to signal to the others, then waited for a moment to give them a chance to turn their volumes up before confirming, “Third floor’s done. The swarm’s moved on, so we’ve still got a clear shot to the truck. You guys need help, or shall I meet you on the first?”

 _Static._ In, out, in, out.

You cursed under your breath and whacked the device against your palm a couple of times before trying again as you headed towards the door. “Lila? If you can hear me, I’m on my way down – don’t shoot, okay? I’m _really_ not up for a bullet to the chest right now.”

You clipped the device back to your waistband, then cursed when your bag caught the handle of the door, yanking you back as you tried to step forward.

Turning back round to unhook yourself, you heard a door close from below and hurried out towards the stairwell, boots thudding rhythmically as you jogged down the steps and then speeding up as you crossed the macabre immortalization of _that_ night and rounded the corner. The first two rooms were empty, as was the third, but when you poked your head into the fourth, you heard movement from down the other end of the hall, by the first staircase you’d walked up, and rolled your eyes.

Always the last place you looked, wasn’t it?

Adjusting your bag over your shoulder, you jogged down the hall, then used last doorframe an anchor to swing round into the final room.

“Hey, sorry, I think my radio’s-” Your voice cut out in a whimper.

It was him.

His hair… his height… his build…

Your chest felt like it was about to split in two.

_How?_

You’d missed him. So much.

And yet there he was…

“Dad?”

You stepped forward and reached for his shoulder, only to recoil the moment it turned around.

Dead eyes. Rotten skin. Not him. Not him.

You stumbled backwards in shock, then fumbled for your knife as it came towards you, mouth open and hungry and _too fucking close…_

You dropped the oozing corpse’s body to the ground, then staggered over to the nearest table and leant against it, chest heaving for breath.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you mumbled, thoroughly shaken.

_How could you have been so stupid?!_

Just as you’d calmed down, your waistband buzzed with static, making you jerk in shock.

_“B.. Bl—e?”_

“Lila?!” you gasped, heart pounding as the line crackled. “Where the fuck are you?!”

_“Bl--!... -rd… ou-…”_

Growling under your breath, you moved closer to the window just in case something inside was interfering with signal, then tried, “Lila? Repeat that?”

_“.. Blu-… Get-… -f there!”_

A chill ran down your spine.

_“Ru-… lue, now!”_

You may not have heard most of it, but you didn’t need to to know something was very, _very_ wrong.

Dread curling in your stomach, you ran out the room and headed for the central staircase, only to freeze at the very top.

Dozens of dead eyes looked straight at you as Lila’s desperate plea echoed through the radio.

_“Herd… inside! Blu.. Get out o-… Now!”_

With panic rising like acid up your throat, you stumbled backwards and turned to run down the hallway, but before you could even get halfway, the dead rounded the corner from the stairwell and you had no choice but to duck into the nearest room and hope to the God you didn’t believe in that they hadn’t seen you.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

Fumbling with the radio, you turned the volume right down and started barricading the door with anything and everything you had, just to try and delay them. They’d still get in. You knew that. It was only a matter of time.

_Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God._

You rushed to the windows and fumbled with the latch, then gasped when you glanced out to see a bloodied Lila desperately waving her arms in the air, her gaze flitting along the front of the building as she looked for something. Looked for _you._

“Lila!” you called out, urgently trying to force the window open. With the dead right outside the door, staying quiet was useless; they were coming for you either way. You slammed your palms against the glass to get Lila’s attention, then felt tears of relief well in your eyes when her head snapped round and her gaze met yours at the same time the window opened just a crack. “LILA!”

“BLUE!” she cried, her tone betraying her fear and panic. “BLUE, GET OUT OF THERE!”

“I can’t!” Your voice was worse than hers, cracking but with an urgency that only impending death could bring. “They’re at the door – I can’t get to the exit!”

Lila’s sorrowful moan made your eyes prickle, but you forced yourself to keep focused, to stay on task.

You might not die if you jumped. You could survive a fall of that height. Maybe.

You wouldn’t do so with both legs intact, though, not when there was only concrete to meet you at the bottom. That in itself was a death sentence; if anything, dying from the fall would be kinder.

But it wasn’t too late. Not completely.

Thinking fast, you turned and grabbed a lamp from the corner of the room, testing its weight in your hand before ramming the base into the window with all your strength.

_CRACK._

Again.

_CRACK._

Once more…

The glass shattered, spilling out into the air as you rushed forwards and braced yourself against the side of the frame. “Lila, take the bag!”

You scrambled to unhook it from your shoulder, shooting a glance back at the door before climbing up onto the window sill as best you could and hoisting the bag up along with you.

Lila rushed forwards as the others doubled back to cover her from any of the remaining dead outside, her face anxious and unsettled. “Blue!”

“I’m gonna throw it out to you,” you warned, then leaned partway out the window so she could hear you better, barely even noticing the jagged edges of the glass as they threatened to tear a hole through your stomach the moment your weight pressed against them. “It’s not much, but you’re gonna need it!”

“What about _you?!_ ” she cried as you carefully lowered the bag out the window, the added weight making you grunt as the broken glass from the window finally pierced skin.

“It doesn’t matter! If that herd gets out, none of us are gonna make it!” You knew that like you did your own name. Bracing yourself, you carefully swung the bag by the strap to get a little momentum to prepare. “You guys gotta go – they’re counting on you back home! _Alyssa_ is counting on you!”

“Blue, no!” Lila protested with a shake of her head, her voice the one cracking, now. “You can’t ask me to do that!”

“I’m not asking,” you called, tone firmer than it had any right to be as the bag landed on the ground below with a thud. “If I don’t make it out? You gotta go, simple as. You don’t come back for me, you don’t wait around, you just go, okay?”

“Blue…” Lila looked like she was about to cry, and in that moment, you knew she’d heed your order, even if every part of her rebelled against it.

_Good girl._

“I’m gonna try and make it to that fire exit, see if I can meet you round the side, but if I’m not out that door in two minutes, get the Hell outta here!”

With no more time to spare, you jumped down from the window sill and ran back across the room, dragging the table you’d used as a barricade over to the side of the door that would open first before ducking under it. If the swarm couldn’t see you, they’d automatically move into the center of the room; if you were quick enough on your feet, you might just have a chance at escaping out behind them.

It was a long shot, but it was also your only one. If this didn’t work…

_Weep for the living. Rejoice for the dead._

At least it would all be over.

“Fuck it,” you muttered, then reached up from under the table and pulled on the door handle.

Within seconds, the dead were stumbling inside the room on the hunt for life, uncoordinated feet dragging over tile as dried-up throats moaned and grunted and rotten eyeballs sought out any signs of movement around them. You could see between their moving legs just enough to know more were still out in the hallway. Not all of them were following, which meant it would be easier to get out from this room, but that also meant it would be even harder to get to that emergency exit.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity fuck._

Withdrawing your blade, you took a deep breath, then charged.

It was quick. It was instinct. It was desperate.

You didn’t have time to think or breathe or process.

Run. Push. Stab. Shove. Dodge.

Pain. Stumble. Miss. Ooze. Rot.

Next.

Weight. Blood. Gore. Pressure.

Metal. Cold. _Go._

You barrelled through the emergency exit door with your heart pounding and your lungs struggling to gulp in air, then sprinted down the fire exit with the dead hot on your heels.

Move. Run. Forward. Don’t stop.

Platform. Around. Stairs. Down.

All you could do was keep your feet moving, keep driving forward, but as you reached the bottom you noticed something.

The lower emergency exit door had been forced open and some kind of half-eaten animal corpse was right beside it.

And then, as you were sprinting out towards the front of the building, you caught a glimpse of something else.

A familiar black army truck. Parked out back.

_Mother._

_Fucker._

You forced your feet to move faster, your body to push harder…

Rumbling engine. Squealing brakes.

Justin’s hand grasped your forearm as Aaron’s grabbed your bicep, hauling you into the bed of the truck as Lila started to speed away, running over fallen corpses along the way.

Rolling onto your back, you panted up at the sky and let out a strained laugh as tears welled up in your eyes and overflowed.

_You’d made it._

“B-… -ay?”

“.. it…?”

You shook your head and tried to process what they were saying.

_Blue, are you okay?_

_Were you bit?_

“Dunno,” you managed to mumble, then grimaced when Justin forced you to sit up so he and Aaron could strip you of your hoodie. You shuddered as they pushed and pulled at your body, searching for any wounds, but it was too late to be thinking about that, too late to try to cover up… If you were bit, you wouldn’t be making the trip back home.

Wouldn’t that be so ironic? To escape that herd, only to die anyway?

Justin grasped your hand and squeezed it tight as Aaron laid you back down and started rummaging for something you couldn’t see.

You blinked once. Twice.

He was talking to you.

“You’re okay,” Justin repeated, even as his bloodied face screamed concern. “You’re okay.”

You weakly curled your fingers around his, shock and exhaustion hitting you all at once.

“Keep still, okay?” Aaron instructed as your fuzzy brain struggled to keep up. “I’m gonna try and numb you up, but we don’t have much time - this might hurt.”

You found yourself smiling anyway.

“Told you we’d need that bag.”

Justin breathed out a laugh. “You’re one crazy motherfucker, you know that, Ma’am?”

“How many times do I have to tell you guys not to call me that?” you groaned, then hissed at the sharp prick of a needle piercing your stomach.

Despite yourself, you squeezed Justin’s hand and closed your eyes, letting the touch comfort you while it still could.

You wouldn’t have time to recover when you got back. You’d be straight out those doors again, ready to face the Hell that had broken loose head on.

You could connect the dots. You knew exactly how and why that herd had got inside.              

It had only ever been a matter of time before he made his move.

And now he had, it was time you made yours.

Negan wasn’t going to know what hit him.


	14. Fucked Up (black and blue)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, this is a new record right! I think I've got my mojo back full time now!
> 
> This one is rough, I won't lie to you, and anybody who is triggered by past sexual assault may struggle to read it as much as I struggled to write it. However, I hope you understand why it's so important for the story. Blue is strong. So strong. This does not change that.
> 
> I love you all xx

_I can smell your fear._

_The only reason that I’m here?_

_Is to wreak havoc._

_BEEP!_

_BEEP-BEEP-BEEP!_

You slammed your palm against the horn of your car with more force every time, rage boiling hotter inside of you with each foot closer to the gate you got.

The dead along the fence were riled up, struggling against their restraints, but instead of stopping, you blared the horn even more erratically than before.

_BEE-BEE-BEE-BEEP! BEEEEP! BEEP-BEE-BEEP!_

Enough men to start a small army were starting to pour out of the Sanctuary and each of them aimed their guns at you, but you couldn’t give a fuck.

You just kept on going.

_BEEEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEEEEP!_

When the main door burst open, you finally stopped the car and rolled down the window as Negan charged forward with a face like thunder and eyes burning with anger.

“WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK?!” He swung Lucille out in front of him, pointing in your direction. “WHY HAVEN’T ANY OF YOU STUPID FUCKS SHUT THAT SHIT DOWN ALREADY?!”

“Sir, you said we weren’t to…” you heard one of his men try to explain, but when Negan thrust the bat in his direction instead of yours, he fell silent.

“WEREN’T TO WHAT?! DO YOUR FUCKING JOBS?! EVERY DEAD FUCK IN A THREE MILE RADIUS CAN HEAR THAT SHIT!” Negan was fuming; it was written all over his face.

_Good._

His fury didn’t scare you.

Your wrath was far greater than anything he could possibly imagine.

“HEY, FUCKFACE!” you yelled at him as you leaned partway out the window, slamming against the horn again to get his attention. “AM I INTERRUPTING SOMETHING?!”

The look of pure shock on his face was almost enough to make you laugh.

“ _BLUE?!_ ” he exclaimed. “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! WHAT THE MOTHER OF FUCK IS FUCKING WRONG WITH YOU?! CUT THAT SHIT OUT!”

Defiant, you resumed your erratic blaring of the horn and watched as he bellowed orders at his men to get them to unlock the gate. He was flustered, they all were, and the noise you were making only aggravated them even more.

You didn’t care if your tactics worked or not – you didn’t need a herd to unleash Hell on them.

“NOT NICE WHEN SOME ASSHOLE TRIES TO SET A HERD ON YOU, IS IT?!” you shouted out the window, then smirked when he pushed one of his men out of his way in his haste to come at you. “HOW DOES IT FEEL, BEING ON THE OTHER END OF YOUR OWN PLAYBOOK FOR ONCE?”

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU FUCKING-”

You cut him off with a sharp blare of the horn and glared at him as he came to a stop at the car door, face stormy but nowhere near as much as yours must’ve been.

“Don’t,” you snapped, meeting his wrathful gaze with one of your own. “Don’t you dare pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“All I know is you’re out of your goddamn mind,” he spat, then pulled at the door handle, only to find it locked. “Get out of the fucking car.”

You smirked, tone turning venomous. “Why? Don’t want your undead friends joining the party this time?”

“Blue,” he rumbled dangerously. “I will not ask you twice.”

“Oh. Shit…” You feigned confusion. “Is the whole passive-aggressive assassination attempt thing only okay when you do it? Sorry – I was too busy running for my fucking _life_ to get that part of your message. The rest of it, though? I received loud and clear, believe me.”

“What fucking message?” Negan uttered lowly, brow furrowed. “I have no fucking clue what you’re-”

Your palm went to slam the horn to stop his lie, but he snatched your wrist and pulled it away before you could make contact, his fingers constricting across your skin like a vice.

“Hey!”

“Get. your hand. off me,” you growled, glaring up at his tension-riddled face. _“Now.”_

He held your gaze for just a moment, jaw working beneath his close-trimmed beard, then released your wrist before bracing his hand against the top of the car door. “You’re fucking crazy.”

“And you’re a fucking asshole; full of shit and disgusting,” you shot back. “But you’re right - I must be crazy to have ever thought you weren’t!”

“What the… When’d you last get some goddamn sleep, Doll?” He raised an eyebrow. “You look tired as fuck and, judging by this shit show, it’s making you completely fucking batshit and paranoid.”

“Oh, cut the shit, Negan, you know exactly what I’m talking about!” You shook your head in frustration, then gestured over to a group of his people standing by the gate. “Your little friends over there were _so close_ to getting away with it, I bet they didn’t even realize I saw your truck parked out back. But even if I hadn’t, did you seriously think I wouldn’t realize it was you?”

Negan’s jaw tightened as his expression darkened, and you caught the way his hand clenched around the doorframe.

“I gotta hand it to you – it was all very poetic, really.” Sarcasm and bite tainted every word you spoke. “I mean, the location… using our own tactics against us… the role reversal? And to do it _just_ when I was due to come to visit you? Shit, if I’d been on my way here and not with them…” You shrugged. “I wouldn’t’ve even known you’d done it until _after_ I’d vetted your people. It was a solid plan, I’ll admit that. We sure as fuck didn’t see it coming.”

When all he did was stare at you in response, you couldn’t help but feel even more enraged.

_Was he not even going to own up to it? Was he really going to play this game?_

“So you tried to screw me over… Good for you. Shame it didn’t work, but hey, ten out of ten for effort and creativity. But you know what? There’s just one thing I can’t wrap my head around,” you continued, laughing bitterly. “How is it that _Francis_ had the guts to pull the trigger himself when he tried to fuck with you, but your people had to use a _herd_ to do the dirty work for them to take me out? They didn’t even wait around to make sure they’d finished the job, for Christ’s sake! I expected more from you, Negan, I really did. I thought you were supposed to have balls.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, feeling so angry, so frustrated, that it was hard to grind out the next words. It wasn’t just him you were pissed at – it was yourself as well.

“You _almost_ pulled it off, you know? Trapping me inside like that?” you admitted quietly, and god fucking damn it, you hated how hurt you sounded, how _affected_ you were by what had happened. “I didn’t think I’d make it out. I nearly didn’t. But, fuck it... here I am! At least you’ll get to finish the job yourself now, right? Is that what you really wanted? To watch me die with your own eyes?”

Negan’s face had dropped the moment you’d mentioned how close you’d come to dying, and before you’d even finished, he was turning his attention back to his people. His entire body was coiled like a snake’s, ready to strike... and that’s when it hit you.

“Oh, my God.” You let out a soft chuckle, realizing you’d _finally_ caught him at a disadvantage. _Holy fuck._ “They didn’t tell you.”

His head snapped back round in your direction, and you couldn’t help but smile at the look on his face.

He’d had no fucking clue what his people had done.

You weren’t sure if that made things any better or even worse.

Either way, it didn’t make what you’d said any less true. You both knew it, too.

“I guess that makes this whole vetting thing pretty easy, doesn’t it?” you bit out, shaking your head. “You scoffed at me for not trusting your men, but this is _exactly_ why I didn’t. They’re fucking animals, Negan, and today just proves it. You thought my way of running things wasn’t the right one? How about you take a look in that goddamn mirror you clearly love so much and then tell me who’s wrong.”

“Blue.”

“No,” you snapped angrily. “I’m fucking done with this shit, Negan! You act like you’re this big bad alpha male, but you can’t even control your own people! And once those other communities realize it, you’re gonna regret pissing away the only chance at an alliance you were ever gonna get because _nobody_ is gonna be there to help you fight them. _Nobody_ will protect you, not even your own men. The others will burn this place to the ground with you in it and, you know what? You’ll deserve every second of it.”

You reached down to release the handbrake, but Negan’s hand shot out to grab yours again, making you jerk in shock.

“Get out of the car,” he ordered darkly, face mere inches from yours.

“Go fuck yourself,” you spat as you tried to pull your wrist free, only for him to tighten his grip and take hold of your other wrist as well.

“Blue.”

You gritted your teeth, then looked up him again, taking note of his unreadable expression.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” you challenged. “Tell me it wasn’t them. Or tell me it was them, that I _am_ right, and you accept responsibility for it like I did with Francis… For fuck's sake, Negan, give me _something!”_

When he didn’t say anything, you let out a bitter laugh and tried to blink away the tears that threatened to form in your eyes.

“You can’t do it, can you?” you accused. “So I gotta ask... Did you even _want_ this to work? Were you ever willing to actually _try?_ Or was it all just a way to get your foot in the door and take over? Which is it? Huh?”

_How could you have believed your judgement had been right on this? How could you have let him fool you?_

You’d honestly though your deal with Negan could work. That, somehow, there was a way to make sure your people stayed out of this warpath and in his good graces.

You were wrong.

“They were right,” you muttered as you finally looked away. “You’re just like Him.”

Negan’s fingers tightened painfully around your wrists as something dangerous flashing in his eyes, and before you could even process what was happening, he was hauling you out through the car window by brute force alone, even as you cried out and tried to fight back.

He was stronger than you, could use your position to his advantage, and he eventually managed to drag you out the car and half-drop you onto the ground despite your best attempts at using your feet to hold you inside.

“GET OFF ME!” you screeched as he lifted you and threw you up against the car door, using his body weight to hold you in place. You lashed out, hitting every part of him you could, but he simply grabbed your wrists before they could make contact with his face, like a parent dealing with a child’s tantrum.

Expression dark and eyes fixed on yours, he slowly leaned forwards and pressed your hands back against the car, his forehead almost touching your own. “Blue.”

He wasn’t hurting you, not really, but if anything that just made you madder, more infuriated. You wanted a fucking fight, goddamn it. You needed _something_ to get rid of the anxiety and adrenaline and anger that had been waging war on you for _days,_ just so you could focus again _._

You struggled against his hold, jaw clenched and face thunderous. He grunted under his breath and shifted his position to pin you more securely.

“You done yet, Sweetheart?”

You tipped your head back and went to thrust it forward into his nose, but he saw it coming, moved out of the way, then growled as he ducked down, using your new position to shove his shoulder into your abdomen and heave your body up in a perversion of a fireman’s carry.

 _Pain_ knocked your breath from your lungs.

Your arms flailed, then pushed off his back to try to relieve the pressure, but it was no use.

“N-…” you wheezed, then squealed in agony when he started to march you towards the Sanctuary. His shoulder was digging right into your newly sutured stomach wound, each movement and bounce of his steps making the pain so excruciating you could barely even _think_ , let alone try to break free. “N-Ne-…”

You weakly kicked your legs, but his arm clamped over the top of them to stop you.

You whimpered as nausea overwhelmed you, clutching his leather jacket desperately out of instinct, just to have something to hold on to. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, your brain too busy short-circuiting to work right.

“Open the damn door,” you heard Negan bark, then squealed again as he hauled you inside like you weighed little more than a sack of potatoes, his grip firm and steady even up the flights of stairs that made your head swim and your vision blur.

“Ne… No, pl… Plea…” you tried, but all that did was make your stomach churn and your abdomen scream out in protest with the movement, so the words quickly died on your tongue.

“Out the fucking way,” he demanded, and out the corner of your eye you saw some of his people stop mid-kneel to make room for him to pass. You only caught a flash of their faces, but judging from their expressions, you knew things were about to go from bad to worse. You just didn’t have the strength to stop it, didn’t have the energy to try to break free. Not yet.

After torturous seconds – _minutes, hours?_ – Negan finally slowed and barged his way into a room you didn’t recognize before dropping you unceremoniously to your feet without warning.

You swayed unsteadily, but as he turned to lock the door behind you, you realized where you were… and why.

“No!” You rushed at him, clawing at his arms in your attempt to stop him locking you in, then cried out in pain when he turned and grabbed your wrists tightly again to push you further into the room. “NO!”

You flailed your arms to try to dislodge him, but when that didn’t work you tried to knee him in the groin instead, headbutt him, kick at him… He dodged every blow.

“Blue, stop,” he ground out, voice calm yet deadly.

“Get off me!” you cried, panic setting in as he walked you backwards, right where you’d never wanted to be taken ever again. “Stop!”

The backs of your knees hit the mattress and you tried to knee him in the groin again, only to lose your balance and fall anyway, bringing him right down with you.

The moment your back landed on the thick duvet, he pinned your wrists above your head, and your entire body froze solid.

_Keep still, Baby, I just wanna have a little fun._

You turned your head to the side and clenched your hands into fists as tears welled in your eyes, your entire body tensed in anticipation of what was to come.

He leaned down over you and pressed his forehead to your temple, breathing unsteadily.

It was instant, that switch in your brain. The detachment. The lack of resistance. The stillness.

Fighting would only make it hurt more. It was what he’d want.

He’d want you to struggle, want you to cry.

You refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing your face when he violated you.

You’d learned how to switch off a long time ago; you wouldn’t even flinch.

You started counting the number of books on the shelf on the wall, eyes glazed over and blurry.

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

His weight shifted.

_Four._

_Five._

He released your wrists.

_Six._

Fabric rustled.

_Seven._

Your fists were clenched so tight, pain seared through your palms from your nails.

_Eight._

_Nine._

Heavy leather dropped to the floor.

_Ten._

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

_Eleven._

He tugged the hem of your sticky tank top up and away from your lower abdomen.

You closed your eyes.

_The eleventh book had a green spine. It was next to a battered red one._

A hissed in breath.

A low curse.

You opened your eyes. Ignored your tears.

_Twelve._

_Thirteen._

Fingertips gently traced a line beneath the sutures you knew were torn out, blood tacky on your skin.

You suppressed a shudder.

_Fourteen._

The fingertips paused. Moved lower.

_Fifteen._

They reached your hipbone.

A whimper escaped your throat and your hand shot down to clamp around his wrist.

You closed your eyes against the _red-pain-scream_ of knowing exactly what was beneath his fingers.

A name. _His_. Carved into your skin.

He pulled his hand out from under yours to reach for his belt.

Without needing to be told, you raised your arm over your head again and clenched your jaw.

_Fifteen was black. Thick. The lettering was gold. You could picture it in your mind._

“Dwight, get Carson up here. Now.”

His weight moved off the bed.

His footsteps carried him away.

_Sixteen._

_Seventeen._

You opened your eyes again but didn’t dare move. Your breaths escaped as panting gasps.

He’d be back. You knew it.

By book twenty, he was.

“Here.”

_Twenty-one._

_Twenty-two._

_Twenty-thr-_

_“Blue.”_

He stepped into your eyeline, but what you saw didn’t compute.

“Take it,” he urged, extending his hand which held the clean white t-shirt that had confused you so much.

You said nothing, just watched as his expression twisted into something you didn’t understand.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you, Darlin’.”

You shuddered at his words, hearing them come from someone else’s lips even though you saw his move.

_C’mon, Baby, play nice…_

“Jesus Christ,” Negan muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I’ll fucking turn around or something, I dunno. But that tank top’s fucking shredded. And nasty. You’ll get infected.”

When you still didn’t move, Negan cursed under his breath and took a half step forward.

“Blue.”

You slowly sat up, numbly reaching down to pull your tank top over your head. The motion made you inhale sharply because it aggravated your wound, but it was barely audible over the breath Negan sucked in.

“Shit,” he hissed.

 _The scar on your chest,_ you thought absently. At least he’d finally seen now. Both of them.

Maybe he’d add one of his own.

You let your tank top fall into your lap and took the new t-shirt from him with a shaking hand, frowning when you realized he was looking steadfastly at the wall and his jaw was clenched tight.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “I’ll lie on my front.”

“What are you…” he gritted out, then growled before looking back at you, his gaze focused on yours instead of your body. “Don’t. Just… put that goddamn t-shirt on. Carson’ll be here soon.”

You did as you were told, but it felt like you weren’t even in your body anymore, like you were observing someone else pull your strings from afar.

_Disassociation. Depersonalization._

The words echoed in the back of your mind, but before you could pay them any attention, your lips asked, “Who’s Carson?”

“Our doctor,” Negan replied, glancing anxiously at the door before fumbling for the radio at his belt.

_So that’s what that was._

“Why?” you wondered absently. “I haven’t got anything. He used condoms. You won’t catch-”

“Jesus!” Negan shook his head in disbelief and maybe disgust. You couldn’t tell. “It’s for your stomach, for fuck’s sake! You’re fucking bleeding, and you seriously think I brought you up here to fuck you?! You think I’d fucking do that to you?!”

You hated it, but you flinched at the anger in his voice. The volume. You couldn’t help it.

After a moment’s pause, gentle fingers coaxed your chin up.

You reluctantly met his gaze.

“Fuck…” he breathed. “Don’t do that.”

Your brow furrowed.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he continued lowly, barely more than a murmur. “Like I’m Him.”

_Not everyone’s a fucking monster, Blue._

You felt your lower lip tremble, tried to rein it in, but then his thumb was sweeping over it and the familiar touch had your eyes welling up again.

He cursed and went to move away.

Instinctually, you clutched at his wrist to stop and keep him there, even though every other part of you was screaming with the need to escape.

“Don’t,” you pleaded, voice quiet and timid.

_Don’t what?_

You didn’t know.

“Blue…” Negan sighed, but before he could say another word there was a knock at the door, ending everything before it even started.

You let go of his wrist and wrapped your arms around yourself as he called out for the newcomer to come in, then swallowed thickly when a man entered the room. He didn’t seem intimidating, barely even looked your way, but you were more than a little wary of the black bag he’d carried in with him.

Negan took a half step towards the door, then hesitated, shooting you a glance. “You want it unlocked still?”

You hadn’t even realized he’d never had the chance to lock it to begin with. You were too busy fighting him.

You shrugged and looked down at your lap.

“Blue.”

“M’fine,” you managed to get out, chewing on your bottom lip.

“No, you’re fucking not,” Negan muttered, then turned his attention to Dr Carson. “I dunno what the fuck happened to her, but her stomach’s cut to shit. Think there was some kinda patch job done, but it wasn’t e-fucking-nough. She’s still fucking bleeding.”

“He tried his best,” you defended quietly. “Was my fault. Shouldn’t’ve leant on the broken shards.”

“What?” Negan asked incredulously, brows raising.

“The window,” you mumbled. “I broke it. Just wanted to get them the meds before I… they were at the door, I didn’t think I’d...”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill that piece of shit David,” he growled, then looked back at the doctor. “Can you patch her the fuck up? I gotta go round up these stupid fucks that did thi-”

“No!” you cried, the loudest you’d been in a while. “Please!”

Your heart was racing, lungs struggling to pull in air… it took you a moment to realize you’d grabbed his hand.

It took you less than half a second to let it go.

“Sorry,” you muttered. “I’ll… I should… Uh…”

“Blue?” He tipped your chin up again, eyes full of concern when they met yours. You flinched and looked down at the floor, but he didn’t move away. “Do you need me to stay?”

_No._

_Maybe._

_I don’t know._

_Yes._

_“Blue,”_ he stressed, and hearing his voice speak your name like that…

 _I can’t be that girl anymore, I can’t… every time you say her name... it's like I'm back in that room and He’s claiming that girl, touching her... touching_ me _and I want to kill Her, Lila. I need her gone. I'm not her anymore, I'm... I'm Blue._

But you _were_ her, weren't you? That girl before Blue. They were the same. You weren't someone new.

You were just somebody who was trying to make two broken pieces whole.

And you were failing.

You had been for long time. Been drowning in blood and tears and grief and regret and pain...

“I’m so tired,” you whispered as your eyes welled up again.

When his hand moved from your chin to cup your cheek, they spilled over.

“Blue…” His thumb stroked your cheekbone and you felt your body start to tip towards his, exhaustion suddenly overwhelming you. He stopped you falling with an arm around your waist that you were incapable of fighting against. “ _Fuck._ Doc, fucking do something!”

“Let’s lay her down,” Carson replied quickly, but then he stepped forwards and you immediately clung to Negan's shirt, shuddering violently.

“Jesus, fuck, are you a fucking idiot?!” Negan snapped at the doctor, shooting him a look you didn’t understand. “Stay right fucking there!”

You whimpered at his tone, but couldn’t move away because your knees chose that very moment to buckle.

“Shit… Sweetheart,” Negan murmured, then hesitated a moment before sighing and muttering a curse you couldn't quite hear but sounded almost resigned. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Without giving you any other warning, he swept you up into a bridal carry and moved you to the bed, ignoring your cry of protest.

You wriggled in his hold, trying to fight him, but then he lowered you onto the mattress and pinned your wrists again as the doctor did the same to your ankles, bearing his weight down over you.

“No!” you squealed desperately. “No!”

You were losing it. Suffocating. Crushed. Engulfed.

He was holding you down. Restraining you. He’d tie you to the bed soon. It was something He always saved for _special_ punishments. Those nights were the most unbearable.

“Please,” you begged, even though you knew He wouldn’t listen. He never did. “Please! I'll be good! I'm sorry! I’m _sorry!”_

You couldn't do this. You didn't want to do this. You wouldn't survive it.

“Fucking sedate her already! What’s taking so long?! Hurry the fuck up!” He snapped, then looked down at you with that expression of His you'd learned to fear and those eyes you'd learned to loathe.

This was it. He was going to hurt you worse than ever this time.

You started sobbing, absolutely terrified.

“Don't! Don't!” you cried. “Please, Marcus, please!”

A hand smoothed over your hair.

It was worse when He was gentle.

“No,” you whimpered, shaking your head from side to side. “No...”

“For fuck’s sake! You gotta fuckin’ stop this shit, Doc! _Now!”_ a voice demanded, only to soften moments later. “Blue, breathe, c’mon… c’mon…”

Fingers threaded through yours and squeezed tight.

And then you finally sank.


	15. On Display

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you.
> 
> Your comments on the last chapter made me cry but I am so grateful for the response I received.
> 
> It meant so much to me to know that Blue's state had come across the way I wanted and her trauma didn't seem overlooked or unrealistic, and that's why this chapter was hard to write as well. It's based so much upon my own experience that it felt like I'd bared all for everyone to see, so it was a tough one to endure but I hope you enjoy (well, not 'enjoy' but you get what I mean) reading it.
> 
> This chapter is a little heavy, but I like to think of this and the previous one as the valley of the story, not the peak, so more of the Negan/Blue dynamic you all love so much will be making an appearance again soon.
> 
> I love you all,  
> Soph xx

_My life, my love, my drive?_

_It came from pain._

Waking up was slow.

Heavy.

Strange.

It was quiet.

So, _so_ quiet.

You opened your eyes. Blinked.

Grey walls.

Four poster bed.

Animal heads for decoration.

You knew where you were. Kind of.

The specifics were a little hazy.

You arched slightly against the mattress, stretching your aching limbs, then grimaced when your stomach pulled painfully.

_Shit._

You carefully lifted the thick comforter and pulled up the hem of the white t-shirt you were wearing.

A large bandage covered your abdomen, showing just the slightest sign of rusty red under the gauze.

You ran your fingertips over your stomach, the sensation familiar and recent.

The faintest echo of pain. A memory of a gentle touch.

Something big had happened, there.

You chose not to think too hard on that.

Instead, you looked down at your body again, taking stock of sensations and aches in the here and now.

Your hands had been cleaned.

The few scrapes you’d picked up had been, too.

You recognized the medical smell on your skin.

You also recognized the jeans you were wearing as yours, even though the t-shirt wasn’t.

You were glad for that.

Even more glad they covered your hipbones.

But you didn’t want to think about that either.

You tipped your head back to rest on the plush pillows beneath it and let the comforter fall back to cover you again, enjoying the warmth for once.

No matter how much or little you wanted to know about what had happened before you’d woken up, one thing was undeniable.

You’d been taken care of.

And _Negan_ had been the one to do it.

As for the rest?

The noise you hadn’t even realized had constantly haunted you until it was finally gone threatened to start up again.

There were things you ought to be dealing with. You knew that.

Whirring memories. Anxious thoughts. All part of the nauseating carousel your mind seemed to have been stuck on for months.

Now you had managed to step off it, you were in no hurry to get back on.

So you closed your eyes.

Breathed.

For the first time in a long time, your chest wasn’t too tight for you to do so.

Even if it only lasted a moment, you’d earned this.

_In… Out._

_In… Out._

Nobody was demanding your attention.

Nobody was needing you to take control.

You smiled to yourself, then let out a quiet laugh.

Was this what it felt like to be calm? To be free?

You’d actually forgotten.

After almost a full minute of peace, a quiet rustle made you open your eyes again.

Frowning, you carefully propped yourself half-up with your elbows, then swallowed dryly when you realized you weren’t alone like you’d first thought.

_Negan._

He was sat on one of the couches on the other side of the room, reading from a stack of papers and occasionally annotating them.

He hadn’t left you.

He wasn’t crowding you, either.

Your memory of what had happened before you slept was patchy. Distant. Hard to grasp, like the finest sand.

You weren’t sure that was necessarily a bad thing.

One thing you were sure of, though, was that he wanted to talk.

The only problem was you had no idea what to say.

You owed him a thank you and an apology, it felt, but without being fully sure what _specifically_ you owed him them for, you knew they both would fall flat.

You didn’t want to ask him for more detail, though, either.

You didn’t want to know what you’d said or done.

To him. About Him.

Your imagination filled in those gaps well enough.

“Twenty hours.”

You were so startled by the sound of Negan’s voice, it took you a moment to process what he’d said.

“W-Wha…” you croaked, then grimaced when your voice cut out. _Shit,_ your throat was dry.

“Twenty hours,” he repeated softly, not glancing up from the pages in his hand. “That’s how long you’ve been asleep.”

You pushed yourself fully upright, careful not to aggravate your stomach wound, then swung your legs over the edge of the bed and braced yourself on the mattress with your hands. Your head swum, so you had to clench your fingers into the sheets just to stay afloat.

_Twenty hours?_

“There’s some water on the side table,” Negan told you calmly as you took several steadying breaths. “You’ll need to drink it.”

You would’ve nodded if you could, but instead had to settle for silently reaching for the bottle he’d promised and shakily bring it to your lips.

The first mouthful was soothing. The second gulp was instinctive. The third made you feel nauseous.

“Take it slow,” Negan instructed, and you glanced up to see him watching you cautiously. “Don’t make yourself fucking sick.”

You obediently took a smaller sip the next time, then put the bottle back on the side table and wiped your mouth on the back of your weak hand. “Thanks.”

Negan nodded in acknowledgement, then turned his attention down to the papers again, though you were fairly sure he wasn’t actually focusing on them. He was giving you space, you realized, letting you come to him instead of forcing you to.

You weren’t sure what to do.

You wanted normalcy. Wanted to step into your role as Blue again and have him treat you the same way he treated everyone else. Have him to yell at you, call you out, kick you to the kerb.

But what you _needed?_ Was someone to acknowledge you. Someone to hold you together while you processed everything in your own time. To make it feel okay to not be okay, for once.

It left you in limbo.

You kind of liked it.

Taking care not to aggravate anything, you shuffled closer to the edge of the mattress and pushed yourself to your feet, wobbling slightly from the sudden change in position.

You waited until your head stopped spinning so much, then grabbed your bottle from the table and slowly walked over to the couches on the other side of the room, only to stop to brace yourself against the side of the couch just before you could sit down because your knees tried to give out.

“That’s the malnutrition,” Negan told you softly as you struggled to get yourself onto the couch cushions, and you heard the rustle of his papers being placed to one side in preparation to help you if you needed it. “Or the dehydration.”

Legs shaking, you finally managed to flop down and leaned back against the couch, closing your eyes.

“Or maybe it’s the fucking stress and exhaustion,” he continued, sounding more than a little frustrated. “Who fucking knows, it may even be all the above.”

You breathed out a short laugh.

“I’m not fucking joking,” he gritted out, voice almost like a growl. “You haven’t been taking fucking care of yourself, you know that?”

_No shit._

“Do you even realize how fucked your body is?”

You opened your eyes and stared at him, irritation flaring with shame inside of you.

You knew. You knew _exactly._

“Sorry.” He grimaced. “Poor word choice.”

You glanced down at your lap and twisted your hands together.

“No,” you admitted quietly. His words were the truth, after all. “I guess that’s pretty fair.”

“Jesus, Blue,” he muttered. “What the holy Hell happened?”

You chewed your bottom lip then shrugged, lost for words.

“I don’t fucking get it,” Negan sighed as he leaned forward and braced his forearms on his knees, shaking his head. “We both know you’re smarter than this. You’re a fucking _fighter;_ nothing beats you. What the fuck were you thinking? You could’ve fucking died. Would’ve, if you’d fucking carried on like that.”

“Maybe, but it was your people that got me halfway there,” you couldn’t stop yourself from countering, then winced. You didn’t want to fight about that again. “That was out of line. I’m-”

“No,” he interrupted, then gave you a half smile as he quoted, “I guess that’s pretty fucking fair.”

You felt the corner of your mouth lift ever so slightly, but it didn’t take more than a second for your eyes to drop down to the label you had started to peel off the water bottle.

You needed to ask him something. Check. Confirm.

It had been bugging you ever since you woke up even if you’d tried to deny it.

“You sedated me.”

A statement, not really a question.

“I had to,” came his quick response. “You fucking needed sleep, and you needed it right fucking then.”

You nodded absently. You did feel much better for it, you had to admit.

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not,” he continued lowly. You looked up and met his gaze, then swallowed thickly at what you saw there. “You gave me no choice.”

“I don’t…” You shifted uneasily. “I don’t remember…”

“You called me Marcus,” he murmured, eyes softening impossibly.

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from crumbling, the vocalization of His name hitting you like a gut punch. “I… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t fucking do that shit,” Negan cursed with a shake of his head. “Don’t fucking apologize. It’s not your fault. You thought I…” His hands clenched into fists momentarily, but he forced himself to relax. “You honest to fucking God believed I was him. I could see it in your eyes.”

_Hands on your wrists. Weight over top of you._

“You, uh…” You cleared your throat uncomfortably as your fingers dug in to the plastic they surrounded. “You pin-… you pinned me down. Right?”

“You were hurting yourself,” he explained, a tinge of regret in his voice. “I didn’t know what the fuck else to do.”

“Mmm,” you acknowledged, nodding more to yourself than him.

You didn’t need to hear more. You knew yourself well enough to know he was being honest.

“When I, uh… when I…” Fuck, your body was almost vibrating with discomfort, and there was only one way to get it out. “When I get like that, it’s, um… It’s hard, you know? To, uh… To tell what’s… what’s real?”

You brought your legs up under you and tried to ignore the itching sensation running rampant over your skin.

“I don’t really… It’s not… It’s not _me_. I mean… Uh…” Your brow furrowed as you tried to put it into words. “It is me, but it’s not _me_ … I don’t… It’s hard to explain. I just stop being _here_ when I’m like that. Things trigger it, you know? Set it off. I can’t control it. It just… happens.”

You shrugged, blinking back the tears in your eyes.

“Look,” Negan began after few moments of silence, “Blue, we don’t… we don’t have to fucking talk about this shit. That’s not why I’m here.”

You knew that. Of course you knew that.

But maybe you ought to.

Maybe the only way to process was to get it out there, once and for all.

You met his gaze.

Took a deep breath.

Began.

“He…” You swallowed hard again and forced yourself to keep your eyes on his. “ _Marcus._ ” God, that was so hard to say. “He used to, uh… He used to do that to me. Pin me. So, uh… that’s probably why I… did that.”

“Blue…” Negan appealed, but you’d started now; the words spilled out of you almost without permission.

“It wasn’t just him, you know?” You bit down on your bottom lip, turning the water bottle in your hands again and again, just to have something tactile to feel. “His men, they… They didn’t have to pin me, but it gave them a kick, I guess. I didn’t really, uh… I learned not to fight them. They’d hurt one of my girls if I did. So, I…” Your eyes welled up, but your voice stayed level, though you had no idea how. “I spaced out. Was easier that way. While they were… while they…”

You trailed off, staring at your own hands. Your wrists. They no longer needed to be shackled and red raw to feel that way.

The sensation was burned into your skin.

Your ankles were the same.

“I don’t… I don’t talk about it. I can’t. Not at home.” You blinked away your tears again and forced yourself to stay on track. “My people, they… They lost so much, it wouldn’t be fair for me to put this on them, too. M-” Your voice cut out. Stuttered. You pushed through. “ _Marcus_ killed all our men… my dad, they saved him for last, did it right in front of me so I… I wasn’t all there, you know? But then I found out what they… what they were doing to the girls, and, uh… I went to M- to _Him_ , and He said that if I… if I was willing, the others would be left alone, so…”

You clenched your jaw and closed your eyes, pushing it all back.

The memories. The pain.

“I let them do it,” you confessed, sounding more than a little unstable. “Over and over again. It was my choice. My decision. I can’t put that on them. They shouldn’t have this weight on their shoulders. So I don’t, uh… It gets left unsaid, you know?”

“Blue…” Negan rumbled. “That wasn’t a choice. That was…”

“Rape?” you finally said out loud, glancing up at him with a bitter half-smile. The word sent a shiver through your body, made the tears finally fall. “I know.”

You swiped your hand across your cheeks and started picking at the bottle again, leg bouncing incessantly as you fought to keep going.

“I told myself it wasn’t for along time. I still… I still struggle with that word, even now,” you confided quietly, vulnerable right to your core. “What happened to Alyssa… to Hettie… _that_ was rape. They had no choice, they… they didn’t know. But I… I _knew_. I knew what would happen to me if I volunteered, and I was willing to pay that price because… because it was my fault that He even found us in the first place.”

“Blue.”

“It was,” you repeated as your hands started to shake. “I kicked out someone who tried to r-… to _rape_ one of the girls instead of putting him down because we were better than that, we didn’t kill the living, and then he came back with M… with Marcus. I let him bring that monster right to our door.”

Your fist clenched around the bottle so hard, it threatened to implode.

“I should’ve killed him,” you argued, though there was nobody to argue _against_. “I should’ve done my job by ridding the world of that monster, but instead I let him live. I knew better than that. I knew the kind of person he was. But I still let him go. And they’re all dead because of it.”

“You couldn’t’ve fucking known that shit would happen,” Negan sighed, but you couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t bear it.

“I should’ve,” you pushed back. “I should’ve known better.”

“Even if that was true,” he replied, “which it’s _not…_ That doesn’t mean you deserved what that fucking monster did to you.”

You closed your eyes. Let the words sink into your bones.

“No woman deserves that,” Negan urged you to understand, to believe. “What they did to you… it wasn’t consensual. You can’t fucking _consent_ under those circumstances. Let them assault you or listen to them assault someone else? That ain’t a fucking _choice._ Don’t matter what they fucking told you; rape is rape.”

“I know,” you finally whispered, but the acceptance crushed your heart instead of freeing it. “That doesn’t make it any better, though. Trying to understand it… it only makes you feel even more helpless and weak, because it’s not fair and it’s not your fault, but you couldn’t stop it and they did it to you anyway and that… that _powerlessness_ is what almost took Alyssa, and _that_ is what almost… what almost…”

Your mouth clamped shut and you felt your eyes widen.

You’d said too much.

Awareness hit you like a fucking freight train and you pushed yourself to your feet, wobbling dangerously in your haste to get the fuck away.

_Holy shit._

“Blue…” Negan murmured as you staggered round to the back of the couch and braced yourself on it.

“I need to go,” you mumbled, feeling acid rise within you as you tried to fight it all back. “I shouldn’t’ve… I’m sorry.”

Your head was spinning, spiralling out of control, and you couldn’t take it.

_What the fuck had you just done?_

You needed to fix this.

Needed to stop.

Rewind.

Focus.

_Oh, my God._

“Look, about before,” you rushed out as your entire body started that anxious vibration again. “I was out of line. I shouldn’t’ve come in guns blazing, I know that.”

You ran a hand through your hair and fisted your fingers in it, using the pain to ground yourself.

“You need to know that was on _me,_ not my people,” you explained, trying not to let the panic overwhelm you. “I know I have no right to ask for anything, I _know_ that, but if you’re going to punish anyone, punish me, not them. They didn’t do anything-”

A gentle hand curled around your waist and turned you ninety degrees as another tilted your chin up.

“Blue…” Negan breathed.

You whimpered when you met his gaze. Felt your body sway towards him.

“What happened?”

The words were on the tip of your tongue, _aching_ to get out.

You reached up to grip his wrist. Not to pull it away, just to steady you.

“Talk to me,” he urged as his fingers splayed against the side of your neck, eyes soft but not pitying.

“I don’t…” You took a deep, stuttered breath. “Negan…”

_“Talk_ to me,” he coaxed again, “Forget all that other shit. You gotta get this out your fuckin’ head somehow.”

You closed your eyes.

He was right.

_Shit._

“One of my girls… Alyssa…” you whispered, opening your eyes to look into his. “She, uh… after what He did… I knew she was struggling. I get why, I know what’s made it get so bad. I, uh… I’ve been struggling, too. The, uh, you know… the nightmares? And then there’s the triggers. The constant pain. Memories.”

You shifted on the spot, _hating_ how vulnerable and exposed you were. Especially in front of him.

You had no other choice.

You couldn’t talk to anyone at home.

You couldn’t keep it in either.

_It was time._

“I didn’t put her on meds. I thought we’d be able to… get through it, I guess?” you admitted lowly. “If I put her on tablets, made her dependant on them? There’s not an infinite supply, nobody’s going to be making any more of them, so what happened when we ran out? But I should’ve done it regardless of the risks, and I knew it. But I didn’t, so… she tried to k-kill herself this morning. Or, uh… I guess yesterday, now. Not for the first time, either. And I didn’t have any other way to fix it, so…”

Negan’s eyes darkened. Then caught fire.

“The clinic,” he surmised. “You went to get some.”

“Yeah,” you admitted as the hand on your waist tightened its hold. “I had to try. I couldn’t just let her… I had to _try._ But then…”

“My people almost fucking killed you,” he finished, gaze flaring with anger again.

You nodded just slightly, then caught him glance at your lips half a second before he stepped back and turned away.

“Jesus,” he muttered, lifting a hand to run it through his hair.

“Look, Negan…” you began, sounding more tired than you wanted. You had to brace yourself on the couch again without him to prop you up and it was taking more out of you than you wanted to admit. “I don’t want to go around in circles, but what happened out there-”

“I didn’t authorize that shit show,” he interjected with a shake of his head. “That bullshit should not have happened.”

“I know,” you allowed, because he’d made that much perfectly clear. “But that almost makes it worse. People are _relying_ on me, Negan. If we hadn’t made it out? It wouldn’t just be my blood on their hands. And what happens next time we’re short on supplies? How am I supposed to send my scouters out, knowing that their lives will be in danger if our people’s paths cross? I can’t _do this_ to them again. I _can’t!”_

He said nothing for a long time, didn’t even look at you, and you found yourself leaning into the couch more and more to support yourself. You didn’t know what he was thinking, what he was planning, but you weren’t afraid.

For once, you were almost calm.

_Trusting._

And _that_ should have scared the shit out of you.

But then he finally spoke.

“Did all your people make it out? Are they alive?”

“Only just,” you replied truthfully. “As for the others… I left as soon as we got back, so I don’t know if… if Alyssa’s okay, but… I hope so.”

He nodded, then turned to face you, eyeing you carefully.

“And what about supplies?” he asked quietly. “Did you manage to get what you were looking for? Do you need anything else?”

You shrugged, unsure where he was going with that line of questioning. “Not sure. I was on the top floor, and it all just went to shit so fast… Your people might have been able to clear what we didn’t get a chance to, though. I don’t know.”

Negan mumbled something under his breath and went to his pile of papers, absently flicking through them.

“And what about other shit?” he probed, still focused on whatever was in front of him. “Food, clothes, weapons… those fucking pads or tampons or whatever you busted my balls about before? You got everything you need?”

That made you do a double take. “I don’t…”

“For God’s sake, Blue, answer the damn question,” he sighed as he finally looked up and met your gaze. “This isn’t a fucking move or test. What do you _need?”_

You hesitated.

A thousand things ran through your mind.

Doubts. Worries. Fears.

_Don’t tell him. What if he thinks you’re vulnerable? What if he uses this against you? Don’t trust him._

But then…

_Don’t look at me like I’m Him. Not everyone’s a fucking monster, Blue. You gotta get this out your fuckin’ head somehow._

“Blue.”

_Talk to me._

“We need medical supplies,” you finally told him. “The heavy-duty kind. What happened with Andrew… it wiped us out. Whatever we got at the clinic isn’t enough. It won’t last. The rest we can manage, but that… we’re one bad day away from it crippling us.”

“That why you got that shitty patch job?” He gestured to your aching stomach. “To not use up anything good?”

You glanced down at the floor and fought the urge to shuffle from foot to foot like a scolded child.

“You’re a bleeding fucking heart, you know that?” he muttered, then slowly made his way back towards you.

You laughed self-deprecatingly and shrugged. “I’m still beating. Gotta count for something, right?”

“It does.” He came to a stop in front of you, hands twitching at his side when you wavered on the spot. He didn’t touch you, though. He gave you space to stand on your own two feet. “I may not think it’s right, but fuck… I _get_ it. All of it.”

You lifted your head and stared up at him, heart pounding in your chest at his words.

“I may not have a motherfucking clue where we go from here, but _shit,_ Sweetheart… at least let me fucking replace the shit my people stopped yours from taking. And then, if you want to put all this bullshit behind us and vet my men so we can get back to business? Fucking have at it. If not…”

He trailed off, but you’d heard his message loud and clear.

He was offering a truce. A way out. A clean slate.

Something the Negan everybody else feared would _never_ do.

You knew you wouldn’t get this opportunity again.

You’d be a fool not to take it.

You’d be a fool _to_ take it.

You closed your eyes.

Thought it through.

“We do it somewhere neutral,” you eventually decided, fixing your gaze on his again. “You bring a group you trust, I’ll do the same. If we’re happy with each other’s candidates, we work out a plan and stick to it. If not, we draw a line and agree to stay out each other’s way; any of our people who breach that truce are fair game and will be punished as the other sees fit. No bullshit, no revenge plots, no sabotage. We deal with things as they come.”

Negan stared at you, but then his lips turned up into that grin you’d come to realize meant he was impressed.

So were you – you actually sounded almost like yourself again. Strong. Confident. In control.

Negan tipped his head to the side, his grin softening just slightly. “There’s my girl.”

Your chest swelled with pride instead of the despair and misery that had been suffocating it.

“That a deal?” you pressed, raising an eyebrow.

“Fuck, Darlin’, you gonna start busting my balls again?” he laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, it’s a fucking deal.”

You gave a relieved smile before glancing down at your feet, fighting the urge that had flooded your body as soon as he said yes.

_Fuck it._

You let out a quiet sigh, then stepped forward before you could talk yourself out of it and pressed your forehead against his shoulder as your hands moved to grip his waist.

Negan inhaled sharply and jerked at the unexpected contact, just as surprised as you were to have initiated it.

When you still hadn’t moved away a few seconds later, he brought one arm up around you as his other hand cupped the back of your head and you felt yourself actually _relax._

It didn’t last more than a few moments, but it was enough.

“This won’t happen again,” you told him softly as you took a step back, silently willing him to understand.

The attack. The argument. Your meltdown. Your vulnerability. Opening up.

None of it could ever be repeated. It wouldn’t be.

“I know,” he murmured. His gaze _burned_ , pierced a hole right through you, and this time it was your body’s turn to shiver as he lifted his hand to brush his thumb over your bottom lip.

Your lips puckered just slightly, and you caught the flick of his eyes downwards before he slowly leaned in to press a careful kiss to your cheek.

You closed your eyes as he lingered, then let out a quiet breath when he pulled away and gestured towards the door.

“C’mon,” he invited. “You ain’t leaving until Carson’s loaded you up with some meds and cleaned that wound. The rest can wait.”


End file.
